


Kitten

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Jon Moxley being Moxley, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, thirst party saturday, this is absolute filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mox is only an asshole all of the time, sometimes.</p>
<p>(Written for the Thirst Party Saturday Squad, over on Tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweet Little Thing

Moxley tended to bite. Which he knew was Bad Behavior. He couldn’t seem to help it sometimes, but the rest of the time he did it for fun. He already knew he was going to get smacked across the face for something, why not make it something _interesting?_

 

His teeth had sank into a variety of things over his notable existence. Skin, cotton, jeans, ropes…only one time had he latched down on something he regretted, still remembering the stabbing pain in the roof of his mouth and tongue from the barbed wire.

 

Tonight was different, though. Tonight made him want to be on Good Behavior. Maybe even _Best_ Behavior.

 

She was beautiful. Wasn’t all makeup and smoothed corners like the women they always pushed in with him. Wasn’t bold and brazen. She looked petrified, like she’d been caught out after dark. His stomach turned, wondering where they had gotten her.

 

What they expected to happen to her.

 

Normally, the primped and pretty girls they’d shove into the cage with him were followed by his _actual_ opponents for the night, loud and angry guys (who may or may not own the girls, not that Moxley cared all that much). Normally, the girls would saunter to him, hips swaying in a mesmerizing fashion that would have him gone before they would kiss him or touch him. Smatterings of tenderness, mixed with ugly groping and cooing about how _scary_ he was, how _terrified_ they were of him. Mox was used to that shit, the bitter _crap_ , the lines they’d feed him before he’d have to fight for his meal or for his money or whatever the hell they were holding over his head _this_ time…

 

This one wasn’t moving, though. She just stared at him, frozen, while the crowd shifted restlessly in eager anticipation for something, _anything_ to happen.

 

Moxley huffed, the chain on the collar around his neck rattling as he jerked his head to the side and studied the girl. She flinched at the speed of his motion, her hands balling into fists. His smile was slow, but it crept out all the same. He crouched in his corner of the cage and refused to move towards her.

 

He’d be fucking damned if this one wasn’t _actually_ fearful of him, and he’d be damned again if he aggravated the situation with his haphazard, stiff movements and wild eyes. One brave soul out in the crowd called “Get out of there, little girl, before something bad happens to you!”

 

For whatever reason she shook her head and stepped _towards_ where Moxley was kneeling. And then took another step. Closer. Moxley could see a bruise on her arm. Closer. Her eyes were all puffy. He started to grind his teeth.

 

Mox was used to the abuse. He was used to getting threatened and battered if shit didn’t go right. It came with the territory. He was an asshole and probably deserved the whippings that landed. But…bruises looked wrong on some people. Especially pretty girls.

 

_Yep, I’m definitely an asshole. But what the hell was she dealing with that was so bad she ran to **this** place?_ he wondered, staying as still as he could while the crowd grew more rowdy. She was almost on top of him. If she reached out she could grab a handful of his hair or tear his eyes out with minimal effor _Jesus Christ, I have to stop thinking like this_.

 

She hadn’t said anything yet, literally just…standing beside him in his corner. Slowly, _so_ slowly, Moxley leaned over to rest his forehead against her leg. A shiver ran through her, but she didn’t move. Mox rubbed his jaw over her leg for a minute, relishing the soft feel of her skin on the barely-healed gash under his chin.

 

He got to his feet, still moving as carefully as he could manage. He towered over her. But then, he towered over most people, didn’t he? Moxley brushed his nose against her own, snorting when she flinched back. Probably expecting him to bite. She didn’t know he was on _Best_ Behavior. “Shhhh.” he said quietly, eyes flicking back and forth between her own. He knew now was the point when she was supposed to be fondling him, supposed to be getting him riled up for the fight. Instead she was still, so still.

 

A weird, protective feeling surged through his chest, briefly shoving the usual asshole behavior aside. Moxley crooned wordlessly in his throat, hands raising and cupping her face. Her eyes went wide at something, focusing behind him.

 

The chain attached to his collar skittered across the mat of the cage and then pulled tight as _someone_ (his opponent for the night?) jerked him backwards. Moxley fought for breath, getting a few fingers wedged in beneath his collar to save his poor throat.

 

“That’s my girlfriend, you fucker!” the guy seethed, wrapping the chain around his fists and hauling Mox back _hard_ , making him fall flat on his ass. Moxley snarled, snapping wildly as he rolled to his feet and lunged for the other man.

 

It wasn’t a real fight. The guy wasn’t his opponent. Moxley had seen him in the crowd a few times, always cheering for more blood, another hit, another victim. It shouldn’t surprise him that this girl thought being in the ring with _Mox_ was less terrifying than being with her boyfriend. She had to have seen what Moxley had done. The way he acted, _especially_ with women. And yet here she was, all but begging him to keep her safe. Life sure was strange.

 

Moxley landed the final blow and stood. _Ex-boyfriend now, I guess_.

 

…

 

For whatever reason, the girl was still there when they closed for the night. She clung to Moxley when he staggered out of the cage finally, thanking him over and over. “I was so scared.” she said softly, pressing herself to him.

 

Mox shifted awkwardly, knowing that she must feel him half-hard against her stomach. The jeans weren’t real good for _hiding_ anything. She slid a hand between them, petting his cock through the frayed denim. Moxley hissed out a breath, unsure of her intentions.

 

“Let me do this for you, please?” she asked, still looking a little too scared for his liking when she stared up at him all wide-eyed.

 

Mox’s ‘horny asshole’ side won out after a solid fifteen seconds and he buried his face in her neck, moving his lips across the bruises he found. “Didn’t deserve ya’, kitten.” he slurred, “you’re too nice n’ he shoulda’ treated ya right. Shouldn’t have to run to Mox to be safe.” Moxley caught her hand and half-dragged her along behind him, more than interested and a fair amount of confused.

 

His room in the warehouse was small, but at least he didn’t have to share with anyone. Being the top scrapping mutt had a few perks.

 

“You on me, or me on you? I got condoms, but none of them fuckin’…mouth condoms. So 'f you wan’ me to eat ya’ out, I gotta’ do it raw. When’s the last time that douchebag tongued your pussy, huh kitten?” Moxley asked, grinning when she shook her head and blushed. “Ya’ wan’ me to? Speak up, an’ I’ll do it. No questions asked. I love doin’ it and it’s only fair with what you’re offerin’ me.”

 

“No biting, right?” she asked softly, that scared sound illustrated in the hunch of her shoulders.

 

Mox shook his head, grimacing. “Th’ fuck did he _do_ to ya’, kitten. Hop on the bed. Panties off, get your legs spread. You can leave ya’ other clothes on if you wan’. Promise, no bitin’. Good Behavior.”

 

_Best Behavior, actually_.

 

She was obedient. Almost too obedient. Moxley wondered what else she would do for him if he asked nicely or promised his mouth as a thank-you. He shoved those thoughts away for the time being, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

 

Mox licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, quivering and slick already. She might have been scared, but she sure as shit wanted some of _that_ action tonight. Adrenaline would do that, he guessed.

 

The first press of his tongue had her hips bucking, damn near making him break his nose on her pubic mound. She apologized, looking terrified. Moxley’s cold, dead heart lurched in his chest at _that_ , at how high and scared her voice sounded. “Shhh…” he mumbled, sloppily lapping his tongue over her clit afterwards. “Mox’s got ya’, kitten.”

 

Moxley was no slouch when it came to eating pussy. He knew that if he kept a girl happy, she’d probably come back at one point or another. He also knew that this one may need a little more…delicacy. He’d already promised to not use his teeth, so the nibbling was out.

 

Moxley decided that he would have to go back to the basics, spreading her pussy lips open with his fingers before moving his tongue to trace a wet ’ _M_ ’ over her clit. She cried out, sounding startled. “Douchebag never showed ya’ th’ alphabet?” Moxley asked, then snarled, “What a bitch,” before returning to circle his tongue in an ’ _O_ ’.

 

The ’ _X_ ’ was one of his best letters, always had been. She shuddered when he licked it three times across her clit, and her hand found purchase on his collar. The uppercase ’ _L_ ’ made her hips roll again, and he smirked against her. ’ _E_ ’ had her jerking on the worn leather around his neck, almost as hard as Mox liked it. His ’ _Y_ ’ was quick and messy before he fastened his lips over her clit, making her cry out and tighten her hold on him. Moxley moaned, the momentary loss of breath catching him off guard. It had been _ages_ since he’d been touched like this, and even longer since he’d gotten to indulge himself.

 

“Ya’ like that, kitten?” he gasped against her, easily slipping a finger into her pussy and curling up towards her navel. “Like what Mox is doin’? Makin’ ya’ feel good?” His free hand caressed across her stomach. “Keep goin’?”

 

“Oh God, _please!_ ” she begged, her other hand on the back of his head. Moxley was a little surprised that she was already at that point. Her ex-boyfriend must have been an absolute fucking _waste_ if he couldn’t get her this riled. She sounded like she was going to come already, panting and shaking hard enough to knock against his sore jaw.

 

Mox didn’t give a shit about the pain. It was like everything faded away and nothing was left but this _beautiful_ creature in front of him, begging him to get her off. Maybe for the first time _ever_. Probably not a stretch to think, if the guy before him thought that _chewing_ on her was sexy.

 

“Kitten, ya’ gonna’ come for me? Ya’ gonna’ come all over my tongue?” Moxley coaxed her, sucking on her clit after he spoke.

 

She screamed, back arching and pussy in spasm around his fingers. Moxley felt her shudder against his tongue and groaned, continuing to carefully lick her through her orgasm. “ _O-oh_ kitten, oh fuck. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, taste so fuckin’ good.”

 

Her fingers, still wound around his collar, pulled him up to kiss her. Mox went willingly. Who was he to deny her a taste of herself? She moaned into his mouth and he lapped the inside of hers, tongue stroking her own. His mouth was going to be in _agony_ tomorrow, but he couldn’t seem to care at the moment.

 

“Fuck me, please?”

 

No one had _ever_ said please. Mox took a minute to look down at her, _really_ look. She was already all fucked-out in appearance, a post-orgasm flush on her cheeks and slick shining on her thighs. But the way she looked up at him made his stomach twist. “Anythin’ for you, kitten.”

 

She released his collar so he could shuck his pants and grab a condom. Moxley went through the motions as quickly as possible, already missing those hands around his neck. He urged her to lace her fingers through the worn-out leather again as he got into position over her. “Ya’ can jerk me 'round, kitten. I don’t mind.” Moxley murmured, cupping her cheek for a second before planting his hand on the mattress beside her head.

 

He was still filthy, blood and sweat fucking _everywhere_. She didn’t seem to care though, keening out when he slid inside her. Moxley swore loudly, something in the back of his mind a little worried at how tight she still was _shit am I hurting her?_ “Y’ alrigh’, kitten?” he grunted.

 

“More please, please _please!_ ” Her fingers tensed on his collar, dragging him down to kiss her. She bit his lip and he snarled in reply, thrusting deep into her with each stroke.

 

“Ya’ beg so _pretty_ though, kitten. Beg for it. Beg for Mox, huh? Make me feel like ya’ want it.” he taunted, gasping when her fingers pressed harshly over the wound on his jaw. “ _Naughty_ thing, ain’t ya’.” he managed to get out. “Jesus Christ, ain’t ya’ learned ya’ lesson with that last guy?”

 

She buried her face in his chest and Mox felt like he may have taken it a little too far. “He shouldn'ta’ hit ya’, kitten. Ya’ ain’t deservin’ that shit.” he soothed, shuddering when her body responded to his words by undulating under him. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful n’ I dunno’ what you’re doin’ in bed with me, but I ain’t questionin’ it.”

 

There were tears on her face when she pulled back, and Moxley cursed under his breath. “M’ I hurtin’ ya’?” She shook her head no, looking strangely grateful. Mox felt like he’d probably never talked this much during sex in his fucking _life_. “If I do, ’ll stop, okay?” The tears on her cheeks kind of…they wrecked him a little bit, if he was going to be honest. Not enough to kill his groove, but enough that he slowed down. Savored this shit. Made everything nice and deep and careful, made every meeting of their hips about giving her satisfaction.

 

Because who knew if she would ever be back. And he didn’t want to forget this. Even with his own impending orgasm making his cock throb with want (and really how could he _not_ want, after that enthusiastic pussy-eating session), he snuck a hand down to rub his thumb in quick, messy circles over her clit. When she came, she bit down _hard_ on his shoulder to muffle her scream. Mox saw stars when he followed her over the edge, making a noise of delight at the pain that she caused him.

 

“Oh kitten.” he rasped, smiling down at her even with his arms shaking while the adrenaline finally abandoned him. “Ya’ sure do know how to make a first impression on a guy.”

 

“Can I stay here tonight? Please?” she asked softly as Moxley got rid of the condom and stretched, scratching his side. “I don’t know if I’ll be safe out there. I can do other stuff, if you want. I just–”

 

Moxley held up a hand. “Let’s get somethin’ straight here, kitten. I didn’t eat ya’ out in exchange for shit. I didn’t fuck ya’ in exchange for shit. I hog the blankets, and I snore. If ya’ wanna’ stick around, I ain’t gonna’ stop ya’.”

 

She snuggled into his chest a little _too_ easily when he laid back down, fingers toying with his collar again as she drifted off. Moxley was overly warm, and the bed was _definitely_ too small for the both of them but…he decided he could live with it when she rubbed against him and mewled softly in her sleep.

 

_Good kitten_.


	2. She Came Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Thirst Party Saturday entertainment. Enjoy!

Moxley was in the middle of a dream, something about a shit ton of whipped cream on tits, but was rudely shaken out of it _far_ too early by Callihan.

 

“Your friend is back man.” Sami grunted.

 

“Friend?” Mox thought hard, tongue flicking at a chunk of broken skin on his lip. He came up dry though, and resigned himself to probably having to fight _this early_ in the morning. On an empty stomach to boot. “Alright, where is he?”

 

“She, man. It's that chick. From like a fuckin' month ago.”

 

“Three weeks.” Mox corrected him absently, getting to his feet and stretching with an indecently loud yawn. “Th' chin fork I took is all healed up. Musta' been three weeks.”

 

Callihan shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “Whatever man. She's been here for a couple hours. Figured I deserved a raise, what with me acting as your fuckin' receptionist _and_ secretary, so I told her to wait. She's a patient chick though.”

 

“Wonderful.” Moxley groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face and trying to shake off the last vestige of Sailor Jerry.

 

Sami shook his head. “This like an ex-girlfriend thing?”

 

“This is a ‘stop being a nosy bitch' thing. Thanks for th' wakeup call. Remind me that I owe ya' next time Damage decides t' bring th' fork.” Mox clapped a hand on Callihan's shoulder and shifted around him to the door.

 

She was indeed, sitting there. In…some kind of ridiculous workout garb. Long socks, spandex shorts and an oversized t-shirt which bore a picture of a ghost and the phrase ' _I'm only here for the boos_.' Moxley fought back a snort of laughter, leaning against the wall and giving her the once-over. She hadn't looked up from her phone yet, still scrolling away. “Th' fuck're you doin', comin' back here?”

 

She flinched at the sound of his voice, jumping to her feet. “I uh-I brought you breakfast. I have a favor to ask.”

 

_Breakfast?_ Moxley's stomach perked up. “Breakfast. Talk at me while I eat.” he ordered, taking the small paper bag and cup of (now cold) overly-sugared coffee with an _obscene_ amount of whipped cream ( _uh oh_ ) on the top of it and then plopping on his ass on the ground beside the chair. He only had the one chair, after all.

 

“I need your help. Can you…teach me how to fight? Please?”

 

Mox swallowed, taken aback. “Why th' fuck-“

 

“Because I don't want to have to be dependent on strange cage fighters the next time I get into a situation like that?” She wiggled in her seat awkwardly as Jon fixed her with a long-suffering look.

 

“Oh, _that's_ all I am? A ‘strange cage fighter'? I seem to recall ya' singin' a diffr'nt tune when I was-”

 

“Okay, okay! I worded that poorly. You know what I mean though, right? I should be self-sufficient. I should be confident enough in my own skills that I don't need help.” She snapped while Mox licked his fingers. “You've won almost every fight I've seen you in. I just...want to feel safe again.”

 

“Fuck's sake kitten, I'm no expert. Lotta' this shit is luck and bein' angrier or hungrier than th' other bastard they put in w' me.” Mox admitted, running his tongue around the inside of the cup lid to get the last bits of whipped cream out.

 

“Listen buddy-“

 

“Easy there kitten, I'm no one's _buddy_.” he snarled, getting to his feet. “Ya' did buy me breakfast though. So, f' y' like, I'll give ya' the Mox version of whatever they show ya' in those fancy self-defense classes.”

 

...

 

Teaching her to fight was...easier said than done. Regardless of what other guys had put her through, she was still reluctant to throw a real punch. “Kitten you're jus' gonna' get in over ya' head. This ain't a good idea.” Mox finally said after the sixth time of showing her how to ball her fist right. “Ya' gonna' bust your fingers on some guys nose and while you're in pain he's gonna' fuck ya' up. I don't wan'-” Moxley paused, feeling like he had almost slipped the fuck up.

 

She was still looking at him expectantly so he blustered out something about it being on her if she got wrecked. The truth of the matter was that the thought of her getting into a scuffle and ending up hurt settled in his stomach like a fucking boulder. _No way kitten_.

 

“Alright, we're tryin' somethin' else. I need ya' to do _exactly_ what I say, kitten. Ya' aren't bred for throwin' punches. So. We'll do some uh…'close-quarters finagling'.” Moxley straightened up. “No guy is gonna' come at you lookin' for a fight. So, y' gotta' press that advantage while y' got it, okay?”

 

She nodded, and then sucked in a breath when Moxley circled around behind her. “Stay still f'r a second. Pretend like y' at a bar or somethin'. On one of them spinny seats.”

 

He put his hand on her arm. “Y' had a few drinks, s' no big deal. Some little punkass has been talkin' to ya', he thinks y' comin' home with him so he's got his hand on ya' n' he's a little.” Moxley leaned in, mouth almost brushing her ear. “ _Too_ close. What are y' gonna' do kitten? Bartender's his wingman. That's no help.”

 

“I'll scream.” She said quietly, _way_ too quietly.

 

Mox grunted, “Ain't nobody gonna' hear ya' f' _that's_ how ya' scream, kitten.”

 

“I'll punch him.”

 

“He'll punch y' back. Might knock ya' out. Fuck only knows what'll do if you're unconscious. There's some real shit characters around here, kitten.”

 

“What _should_ I do?” she finally asked. Mox could feel her shivering a little bit, nerves or adrenaline or a nasty flashback maybe.

 

“Y' use his weight against him. Comin' down offa' th' seat, latch onto his arm. He's already got yours, he's secure. Use the seat as a lever and up-over his ass. If he still wants to tango though, you'd better be ready to bite ‘im.” Moxley warned, leading her through the motion and then stepping back.

 

“I'm not going to-!”

 

“Y' wanna' get fucked up again? Touched even when you don't want to be? It's a shit truth kitten, but it's still truth.”

 

"Shut up.” she snapped, wiping her eyes and sniffling a little bit.

 

“Not 'til you get th' fuckin' _point_. How much are you worth, kitten? Y' worth busted fingers? Busted nose? How far are ya' willing to go against th' _fucker_ who thinks you owe him somethin'? Because I tell you fuckin' what, I _know_ you're worth more than _any_ motherfucker who thinks he's fuckin' _owed_ a body.” He couldn't seem to keep the words from pouring out of him.

 

Just _years_ of dealing with the abuse and the _shit shit shit_ of _Every Fucking Night_ and the women they'd toss in with him. Because he was garbage, a mangy fucking street dog and _apparently_ they were worth that, worth fucking _garbage_. No matter how pretty they were or how gentle or rough they were with him; it didn't _fucking_ matter because whoever owned them had decided they were fucking _garbage_. Maybe someday he'd get out of this fucking cycle, but they never would. And if that didn't turn his fucking stomach every fight, if that didn't fucking dig its little talons into his brain and make him wish that he wasn't such shit, that he wasn't such a fucking bastard. 

 

He never bit the girls they put in with him. Let them touch him. Let them run their hands all over him, tug his collar and hair and tease him through his jeans. Slap him, stroke him, whatever the fuck they wanted. Moxley took an almost sadistic delight in the fact that while he was a  _horrendous_ bastard, he was probably still the gentlest thing that they came across in their day. Sometimes he'd humor the crowd with an ugly kiss, burying his hands in soft, shiny hair and mouthing haphazardly over necks and lips like he was some kind of feral freak, like he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. And occasionally he really  _didn't_ , so out of his mind that he had only vague recollections of kissing knuckles and lowering too-light bodies carefully to the mat.

 

She was full-blown crying now, and Moxley wasn't exactly sure what he'd said after he stopped paying attention. “Fuck. I uh. Shit kitten, 'm sorry.” he muttered, the phrase strange in his mouth. He  _never_ apologized.

 

She dried her eyes with her shirt and glared at him, clenching her fists at her sides. “Do it again. Sh-show me the move again.” she demanded with a hiccuping sob. Then, “I'm worth way more than some guy's confidence.”

 

Moxley felt pride hot in his chest, and he grinned. “Damn fuckin' right y' are.” He slid his hand up her arm, feeling her shake. “Shh, s' jus' me. Jus' Mox. Only  _playin'_ th' scumbag today.”

 

“I know.” she grumbled, her fingers digging into his forearm.

 

The next thing Moxley knew he was on his back on the plywood mat, ears ringing. He had a stunning view of the warehouse ceiling and the underside of her bra-covered tits from this angle, and he hummed absently, fingers twitching at his sides. “Huh.” He could live with this. However, it was entirely possible that this was  _not_ what she'd had in mind. Certainly wasn't how the move was supposed to go. Jesus fuck, he was supposed to land on his face. He must have twisted weird, too used to being half-conscious and breaking his nose. 

 

She growled out a swear, pounding her fist into the plywood beside his head and startling him out of his daze. Moxley was abruptly aware of the how fucking _warm_ she was, the heat of her radiating through those silly little workout shorts she wore.

 

_Oh_.  Those shorts were really, _really_ easy to rip at the seams. 

 

_There's always a seam, right-_

 

Mox groaned loudly to kill the thought, dragging a hand through his hair.

 

“What? Am I hurting you? Crap.” She panicked, going to move. But Mox held her hips, keeping her still. If she kept fucking _wriggling_ like that, he was definitely going to have a problem.

 

“Nah kitten, you're good. What I need you to do now though, is bite me.” The way she looked at him made him want to just...rip his pants off and bury himself in her until they were both nothing, until he was spent and she was satisfied beyond coherence.

 

_Jesus_ .

 

He cleared his throat. “You need to learn how t' tear into someone. People ain't gonna' fight fair with ya', kitten. Y' need to learn how to fight back when the fight is going t' shit.”

 

Mox ghosted his teeth over her hand, making her yelp and pull back. “See? I ain't even bitten down and you're shakin' like a leaf. Teeth're scary, kitten. And if someone's got ya' in a hard grip, a lot of times it's the only way to get free. Now latch onto my shoulder.” She shook her head and Moxley rolled his eyes. “Fuck's sake, I showered kitten. I'm clean, I promise.”

 

She shook her head again and his eyes narrowed. “If you're worried about hurtin' me, kitten, fuckin' don't be. Probably got no functionin' nerve endings left up there. So fuckin'…dig in.” Mox cupped the back of her neck and tugged her face down to his shoulder. “ _Bite_.”

 

It didn't start as a bite. Moxley's brow furrowed. It was a fucking _lick_ , a little tender caress on an old scar. He couldn't help the way his whole body shuddered. Guess some of those nerves were still alive and kicking.

 

“You okay?” she asked worriedly, all her earlier irritation apparently gone.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm good. Tickled a little.” Mox cleared his throat. “You'll have t' do better n' that, kitten.”

 

_Clearly_ she took it as a challenge, because this time she broke the fucking skin. Mox fought the whine in his throat, fought the way his hands wanted to fidget with his collar. _Christ_ it was good, so fucking good.

 

“That's it kitten, twist inna' that skin.” he managed to say, the words feeling difficult to form. “Y' wan' 'em to regret touchin' you. Ya' wan' 'em t' _never_ do it again. Jus' remember that.” He was fine, this was fine. He was a grown ass man, fully in charge of his body and-

 

She turned her head slightly, pinching the skin between her teeth. Mox cried out, his hips shuddering up against hers as he fought against the sudden, flaring urge to come in his ragged jeans. _This was a bad idea from the start_ , he berated himself, _you're a damn slut for the biting and you're_ _ **asking**_ _a girl to bite you, come the fuck on_ -

 

He sucked in a breath and did the only thing he could think of. He slapped himself across the face, _hard_. A pained yelp escaped him at the sharp sting. It wasn't the nice, warm pain she'd been offering. It was a disciplinary blow, all fucking business. Mox's erection wilted a little.

 

She made a startled noise, pulling back and staring at him as he panted and dug his fingers into the plywood.

 

“Sorry about that.” Moxley finally said. “Got a little...the bitin's good shit sometimes.”

 

“Oh?” she asked curiously.

 

“Yeah, some of us like that kinda' shit, kitten.” Mox said cautiously. And really, he _ought_ to have known better. “Obviously ya' ain't gonna' bite other motherfuckers like y' bitin' _me_ , right? This is kinda' nibblin', if anythin'.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “ _Really_ now.” 

 

“Yeah, I mean-” Whatever he was about to say died in his throat underneath her teeth. She rolled against his body, urged on by his hands on her hips.

 

She bit him hard enough to bleed, enough to smear her mouth with red when she finally pulled back breathless. “How's  _that?_ ” she asked triumphantly. Moxley was pretty sure he was in love.

 

“I uh, hate to break this up.”

 

_It's too bad I'm about to be down a partner._ Moxley groaned, tilting his head back to stare at Sami upside-down. “Can it fuckin'  _wait_ , Callihan?”

 

“People are clamorin' to get in, man. Not my fault you slept til' fuckin' four.” Sami pursed his lips. “You're not naked, so it couldn't have been _that_ far along.”

 

“Yeah, m' sure _you've_ never come in ya' pants before.” Mox grumbled, making Callihan scrunch up his nose in disgust. “Aw c'mon, Callihan. Ain't gotta' be such a fuckin' prude. I haven't made a mess of th' ring.”

 

“Move it or lose it, Mox. Rules are rules!”

 

…

 

The bite was right below his collar, the leather rubbing against it with every move. Moxley sure as shit hoped that she was enjoying herself, otherwise the display he was putting on tonight was fucking pointless. Snarling and stalking his opponents around the ring, tugging at his collar and sending delicious shocks of pain spiraling through his body. There was a dicey moment when one fucker got the chain wrapped around his neck and sawed it back and forth over the wound. Mox wondered briefly how awkward it would be if his erection tore through his pants.

 

When they finally unchained him for the night she fucking  _ran_ to him. She  _had_ been watching, after all! Moxley grinned, gracing her with a slobbery forehead kiss. “Well kitten?” he rasped, “See a little bit of th' magic now?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

Jesus  _fucking_ Christ, was she warm. Moxley cleared his throat, feeling a little guilty. “M' sorry I wasted most of y' day, kitten. F' ya' want, blame it on Sami f'r not wakin' my ass up.”

 

“I can think of a way you can make it up to me.” she murmured, her fingers twisting into his collar.

 

...

 

He was painfully hard again when she straddled him on his bed, the swell of him snug against her mound. “Fit me too good, kitten. Oughta' think about comin' aroun' more often.” he smirked, making a content sound in his throat when she shifted against him. “I oughta' tear ya' seam and just fuck ya' through these silly shorts.” Moxley mused, sliding a finger down the material. It didn't seem like she was wearing anything beneath them.

 

“They're not _silly!_ ” she protested, her back straightening seemingly in response to his suggestion. “I don't care if you like them or not, I've got more pairs of them so-”

 

“Kitten, I _love_ 'em.” he growled, finding a fray in the seam and wiggling his finger inside. His suspicions proved correct when his index thrust easily into her pussy, making her whimper over him. “ _Oh_ kitten, _fuck_.” Mox said helplessly. She was ridiculously wet and tight, making his neglected cock throb. “Y' wan' me, kitten? Y' wanna' ride th' fuckin' street dog?”

 

She nodded furiously, a blush reddening her face when he groaned and moved to rip her shorts open a bit more. Just enough. Her fingers undid his zipper easily, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of him. Mox shoved a hand underneath his pillow, pulling out his wallet and yanking a condom free.

 

“Sorry 'bout th' scars. Lotta' barbed wire, y'know how it is.” He shrugged as best as he could while on his back, ripping the foil and sliding the latex over his cock. “Can I ask ya' t' take your shirt off, or is that weird?” he asked, laughing when she stuck her tongue out and pulled the shirt over her head. “Mmm, nice.” Moxley breathed, palming her breasts appreciatively. “Came prepared, I see. This has to be th' nicest fuckin' sports bra I've ever seen.”

 

“Oh my god, please shut up and just fuck me.” she mumbled, covering her face with her hands.

 

Mox raised an eyebrow, tapping his cock against her pubic mound and making her whine. “Nice n' slow now. Y' teased me enough earlier. I think we can go at my pace.” he reasoned, exhaling hard when she didn't listen  _at all_ . “ _Kitten_ y' too  _tight_ . Gonna' hurt yourself.” Jon protested, unable to keep from clenching his fists when her hips were flush with his own. “If I tear you we  _aren't_ workin' through it, we're  _stoppin_ ' and-”

 

“I _need_ this.” she gasped out, a hand fisting on his collar and making the leather drag against her bite. “Now, _fuck_ _me_.”

 

Mox's hips snapped up into her almost of their own accord, the man barely keeping his strength in check as he held her waist and forced her to grind against him. He was a little too sore for that bouncing shit, choosing instead to wrap his arms around her lower back and all but drag her back and forth over his cock.

 

“Good dog.” she managed to say, the words striking a weird chord in him and making Mox snap his teeth loudly next to her ear. She shuddered, tightening around his cock _somehow_.

 

“Y' like gettin' fucked by Mox, huh kitten? Y' like when this fuckin' dick is rammin' in an' out an' all y' can do is beg f' more, yeah?” he panted, “Y' like tuggin' on my fuckin' collar _and_ my cock, hmm?” 

 

She didn't have the breath to answer, just nodding quickly before she braced her hands on his chest, fighting his grip on her as she slowed him down. She raised and lowered herself onto his cock in an agonizingly smooth rhythm, making Mox grind his teeth. “Oh  _now_ y' wanna' go slow.” he grunted.

 

“I don't have anywhere to be.” she retorted, smiling down at him. Moxley ran his hands through his hair, helplessly arching his back while she carried on the tormenting pace. He'd thought he was hard before but this was like a whole new level. The slow, careful motion of her hips against his own, the pressure of her hands on his chest and the way her arms pushed her tits together over him. Her noises, those _fucking_ noises she was making. He was going to come way too soon.

 

Her whole body felt like a fucking furnace, soft and warm surrounding him. It was too good, so fucking good. It had never been this good before. Even with all his bruises and scrapes from the night stinging at every wrong move, it was so fucking  _good_ . Mox pulled back his hand and slapped himself again, fighting a disappointed groan when his arousal barely retreated. 

 

She was shaking her head for whatever reason, taking his hand in her own and pressing it her breasts. “Don't do that. Want you to come.” she whimpered, her fingers tracing over her stomach, his stomach, and then diving to her clit. “Want you to feel good.”

 

“Dammit kitten, I fuckin'-” Mox clamped his jaw shut, shuddering. “-do. Too good. I ain't comin' before you.” he promised, lacing his fingers through hers and stroking her clit with his thumb. “Y' gotta' come, kitten, I-”

 

She cried out, hands digging into his shoulders as she bucked over him and damn near  _screamed_ her orgasm. Her whole body shook and Mox made a breathless sound of approval. “Kitten, kitten, fuck's sake kitten.” he crooned, holding her close and thrusting furiously up into her. “Ya' pretty all th' time, but you're a fuckin'  _vision_ when ya' get off-”

 

He finally had to stop talking, head thrown back and eyes wide as she dug her teeth into his neck again and he came. Her cunt squeezed in pulses around him, making him moan loudly and stutter his hips in time.

 

“Good?” she said finally, having milked him for all he was fucking worth. Mox groaned in contentment, folding his arms behind his head and relishing the way that she trembled every time he shifted his hips.

 

“Good. _Real_ good.” he said thickly, exhaustion dragging at him. “Make y' feel any better?”

 

“Yeah, weirdly.” she admitted, making him grin. “Thanks.”

 

“Don't fuckin' _thank_ me, s' weird.” Moxley grumbled, tugging her into his side. “Y' like a fuckin' _princess_ kitten, don't fuckin' thank me for fuckin' ya'.”

 

“If you do a good job at something, usually you get thanked.” she reasoned, her tits pressing insistently against his ribs when he heaved a sigh. He lowered his head to one of her nipples, swirling his tongue around it and sucking it into his mouth.

 

“Shut th' fuck up n' let me enjoy you.” Moxley griped around his mouthful, secretly enjoying her half-moan, half-laugh.

 

_Good kitten_ .

 


	3. Good And Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill! Thirst Party Saturday, ho! Enjoy!

Mox knew that she was too good for him. So her previous return, regardless of what she'd come back for, was…confusing at best.

 

He found himself thinking about her during fights. Sometimes afterward. Sometimes even when he wasn't doing anything at all. He wondered what her favorite food was. Whether she got scared of the dark.

 

Whether she was safe.

 

_Fuck, I've got it bad_ , he realized ruefully one morning. Mox hadn't seen her for over a month and it may have been driving him batshit. He knew he was acting like a fucking idiot. She'd given him her contact information, her address. He just didn't really know how to approach the situation. He wasn't exactly. _Normal_. Wasn't really a man she could take home to her parents. 

 

The other night he'd almost taken a guy's finger off with a pair of scissors when the guy had sneered ' _good dog_ ' and jabbed at the quietly-sitting Moxley.

 

_Good dog_. Mox shuddered, remembering how she had sounded when she said it. Made him almost believe it. Believe that he might be good.

 

He groaned, fisting his eyes and getting to his feet. _Dammit Kitten, if you got in over your head somewhere I'm never going to forgive myself_.

 

There was a screwdriver to fix the rickety dresser he and Sami shared and he swiped it, stuffing it into a lower pocket in his carpenter jeans without a second thought. Damage with his fucking _forks_ almost took out Callihan's eye last week, sending him screaming to the ER. Mox wasn't one hundred percent sure what he would do with the screwdriver, but he had a few nasty ideas. 

 

“Mox! Can you not _hear_ them? Get your ass moving!”

 

His body felt like it was made of lead, and he tapped his fingers against his collar as he shuffled out of his room. It normally comforted him, made him feel like he belonged to someone. Even when he couldn't remember what he'd done the collar was always that one anchor, the familiar weight against his neck to bring him back down. The constant in the swirling chaos.

 

Mox came out to a chorus of boos, playing his role by mouthing off and snapping his teeth. Was it a role anymore? Some days he wasn't sure. Maybe he was Jon…maybe. It probably wasn't Jon that dug his teeth into ring ropes, slammed heads off aprons and rolled around in glass.

 

Probably wasn't Mox that wanted to keep the kitten safe, though. Probably wasn't Mox that tore into that ex boyfriend. Probably wasn't Mox that ate her out, that ripped those shorts and had his way with her.

 

_Probably probably probably_ . Mox rolled his eyes at himself.  _This is getting me nowhere. I have a fight. Focus_ . 

 

Brain Damage was in fine form tonight, wasting no time in stalking across the ring and grabbing Moxley's chain. He was ridiculously strong and Mox, while tall, was not exactly  _bulky_ like Damage. So he was stuck when Damage had a grip on him. “Heya', Puppy!” Damage grinned, his battered face inches from Mox's. Wisely  _just_ out of biting distance. 

 

Mox snarled all the same.

 

“Aw Mox, I'm sorry about what I did to Callihan last week. I promise, you'll be seein' a lot more of him pretty soon.” Damage's smile tended to make Moxley's stomach queasy, always followed by something absolutely shitty. The sound of a Skil saw revving was up with his father's voice on the list of noises Jon never wanted to hear again.

 

“You shut th' fuck up about Callihan.” Moxley prided himself on being able to enunciate when the situation called for it. “Shut the _fuck_ up, y' oversized _shit bag_.” 

 

Damage only smiled wider, other hand tightening on Mox's collar. The same collar she'd touched, the same one she'd held when she called him good. Moxley swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing against Damage's knuckles.

 

Damage pressed his fist into Mox's throat. Leisurely, like he had all night. That was  _it_ . If he wasn't going to take Mox seriously, he'd fucking  _make_ him. Moxley lunged forward, knocking Brain Damage onto his back and tearing at his face with his teeth. Damage's fingers never loosened on the collar though, even while his other hand grabbed at his boot for his fucking  _fork_ that fucking  _shithead_ -

 

Mox choked in a breath and growled when the cutlery jabbed into his shoulder. Waste of air but satisfying all the same. It stung, but not nearly as much as when Damage had caught him under the chin. Damage never knew when to quit though, and he rapid-fire punctured Jon's shoulder over and over and  _over_ , screaming under Mox's teeth as the street dog fought to take a chunk of cheek with him. 

 

Moxley finally ripped Damage's hand off his collar and rolled to his feet. Oh  _now_ , he was angry. “Y' like that shit, y' fuckin'  _prick?!_ ” he yelled, clenching his fists.

 

_Good dog_ .

 

Mox bared his teeth as Damage stood. The stocky man seemed shaken by Mox's biting, rubbing a hand gingerly over his face. Mox went to sink back onto his haunches for a second, still more than a little winded from getting the air strangled out of him.

 

A searing pain lanced through his calf and he realized belatedly that he'd forgotten about the screwdriver in his pocket. It fucking  _hurt_ , a sliding, burning white-hot as the point was forced through skin and muscle. Mox screamed something, he wasn't exactly sure what, tearing at his pants and digging down into the pocket to try and get the handle of the fucking thing but Damage was  _there_ so quick, clamping down on his hand in his pocket and leaning his full fucking weight on Mox's wrist and  _oh fuck oh God oh fuck_ -

 

Mox had a blank space after that, coming back around to the ripping sensation in his leg and the fact that his free hand had a death grip on one of Damage's ears. His pinky was bent oddly and he dimly recognized that it was broken. The crowd was roaring like they were putting on an amazing match but it  _hurt_ it  _hurt_ so much Mox wanted to vomit. His eyes rolled back in his skull and he bit down on Damage's upper arm, clenching his jaw tighter and tighter while Damage hollered and battered his face with his other hand wrapped up in Mox's chain. 

 

He underestimated Moxley though, if he thought he was just going to pass out with a snap of his fingers. Oh no, Mox was  _really_ good at staying at least somewhat conscious. He would stagger, stumble, but something would still be awake up top. At this point, only the revolting taste of the dirty skin in his mouth was keeping him around. Unfortunately. 

 

It may have been easier on him if he was able to go dark for a little while. Instead Mox just had vivid flashes behind his eyelids like lightning as Damage twisted and struggled. The pain of keeping his teeth dug in started to be the thing that kept him in his head, kept him awake. The taste faded away. The noises seemed to get lower and lower, distorting until the crowd was just a rumble, until Damage's swears were whispers in his ears.

 

His jaw started to quiver and shake under the stress; his leg was jumping and sending dull throbs up his thigh. Mox's pulse thrummed over everything else, reminding him that he was still here. The soft jangle of his collar caught his attention fleetingly.

 

_Good dog_ , he thought. He felt strangely content.

 

Damage had undone the buckle though, that sly  _fuck_ , and he wasted no time in cinching the collar tight, so tight. Mox refused to release his grip on his ear, refused to stop biting his arm. Damage was still fucking  _screaming_ , slamming his fist down on the screwdriver and jerking the leather around Jon's neck ever tighter. It was only a matter of time until Moxley would go under, the loss of air too much to keep fighting. Mox knew this. 

 

He grinned fiendishly against Damage's skin. Mox's last seconds of consciousness were spent rearing his head back, a chunk of Brain Damage's arm coming along for the ride.

 

…

 

Mox couldn't remember why he was here or even how he'd gotten here in general. He just remembered the door to the street closing behind him and an achy sigh tearing out of his lungs while he leaned against the wall.

 

It felt safe, at any rate.

 

He debated knocking on the doors as he passed by them, but the glimpses he'd caught of his scraped- up knuckles made him decide against it. He kept shuffling down the hall, one bloodied hand with the pinky bent wrong pressed to the wall to keep himself upright.

 

Moxley _knew_ he was here for _something_. It was so frustrating. It was right _there_ , staring him in the face and he couldn't focus long enough to pin it... 

 

Down...

 

The door that he'd stopped in front of was opening. Shit, he must have knocked. Fucking shit. Mox panicked, flattening himself against the wall opposite the door. Like it would make him fucking invisible.  _Stupid_ .

 

“...Mox?”

 

_Oh._ Mox felt his hands start to shake. She looked like she'd been roused out of a sound sleep, her pajamas all rumpled and hair mussed. She yawned and blinked at him from the half-open door, straightening up and eyes widening. “Jesus. You look...oh boy. Come inside, okay?”

 

“Kit-”

 

“No, get _inside_ before someone sees you and has you arrested.” she ordered, taking hold of the hem of his sweatshirt and dragging him into her apartment. “What happened?”

 

Mox slid to the floor once the door was closed behind him and dropped his head into his hands. He was going to plead exhaustion for the sob that fought free, but another one followed it rapid-fire. She was at his side in a minute, a warm hand smoothing across his forehead and making the torn skin sting.

 

“Shhh, you're alright. You're alright. Sweetheart I've never...do I need to take you to a hospital?”

 

“Too much money.” he managed to say, hissing in pain when she crossed the friction burns on his neck. “Not...sure how I go' here. Musta' been walkin' blackout f'r a while.”

 

“You've got some nasty marks on your neck.” she said softly. “Who was it tonight that got you this way?”

 

Mox shrugged, his head swimming too hard for him to even _think_ about thinking about what had happened earlier. “I can't 'member. 'Sides, y' know me. Wouldn't stop even if I'm out t' fuckin' lunch.”

 

Her hands gripped his shoulders and he found his chin pulled up almost hard enough to hurt. She looked fit to be tied. “ _Mox_. Did anyone follow you here?”

 

_Oh **shit**_ . “I don't...I don't think so? Shit, I dunno'.” he mumbled, “I've go' nothin' up here 'til that outside door clicked behin' me. I'm s' fuckin' sorry Kitten, shit I'm so sorry...”

 

Her face softened. “Don't apologize. I said you could come here any time you needed me, didn't I? Stop being a wuss about this.” she chided, making him smile weakly.

 

_That's right. That's why I'm here. She told me to come here if I needed to be safe_ . “Don' wan' you gettin' hurt.” Mox closed his eyes, leaning into her hand on his cheek. 

 

“I've dealt with shitheads before, Mox. You know that. Go into the bathroom. I'll be there in a second. Going to make sure the coast is clear.”

 

Once in the bathroom, Mox sat on the edge of the tub and stripped off his hoodie with a wince. He strained his ears, trying to make sure she wasn't in trouble even while he hid like a fucking coward. Christ, he was such a piece of shit. Running to her when he wasn't anywhere  _close_ to being a hundred percent in the head, how fucking sad was  _that_ . 

 

His collar was hanging limply off his neck, the buckle bent beyond repair. Mox ripped at the ragged leather until it gave way, dropping it into the weirdly-immaculate trashcan under the sink.

 

_Bad dog_ .

 

He was such a _sucker_ for someone who would fuck him up gently that he was apparently willing to put them in danger for that attention...

 

“All set, Mox.”

 

Mox started awake, almost falling backwards into the tub. He must have dozed off. Her fingers gently skimmed over his chewed-up shoulder and he flinched.

 

“What do I need to do?” she asked softly.

 

Mox heaved in a breath, trying his damnedest to focus. “I...ya' have a first aid kit? Somethin' like that? Can patch m'self up. This is ugly shit, Kitten.”

 

“In the kitchen, hang on.” She bolted off and returned a minute later. At least it wasn't a normal 'family' type first aid kit. Jon counted his fucking blessings.

 

He silently opened the thing, noting in the back of his head with alarm that there was a _lot_ missing when it came to the band-aids and tape. How bad had she gotten it? Maybe he should have punched her ex harder. Bit him. He shrugged. _Focus_. “Y' bad wi' blood, Kitten? Might needa' hand.”

 

“I can do whatever you need me to do.” was her answer, looking up at him. Determined and only a little pale.

 

_How much did you deal with before I cleaned that fucker's clock?_ Jon felt that cold, dead heart of his break a little.

 

His leg was the worst of it, of course. He wasn't sure whether it was going to heal properly but they did the best they could with the limited supplies. Mox was just glad he'd stopped her before she was able to slosh the rubbing alcohol over the wound, begging for regular soap and water instead. “Kills bacteria, yeah, but also kills th' good shit. Y' gonna' make me scream Kitten, an' _not_ in a way y' want.” he explained, doing his best to speak clearly through the exhaustion that was turning his brain to mush.

 

The warm washcloth offset with stinging soap was still a thousand times better than what his skin had felt like before, and Mox found himself dozing off again on the edge of the tub. She roused him out of his nap when she was done with a soft touch on the back of his neck and a whisper of “ _Mox_...”

 

His back wailed for mercy as he stood slowly. His leg only fitfully worked, seeming seconds away from giving out and dumping him on his ass. He felt like he was a thousand years old. She draped his 'good' arm over her shoulder, taking some of his weight and helping him walk. Mox stared at the ground, focused on the floor changing from tile to carpet to other carpet.

 

“Lay down, okay?” she said gently, placing his hand on something soft that he couldn't be bothered to raise his head to look at. “Bad leg first, c'mon.”

 

A bed, of course it was a bed. _Stupid_. Mox groaned when he was finally on his stomach, grabbing for her hand as she turned to leave. “Wait.” he rasped, his own voice sounding foreign in his ears.

 

“I was just going to...I mean, I haven't slept with anyone since...I'm just going to sleep on the couch. I kick in my sleep.” she fumbled, staying where she was.

 

“Promise no bitin'. _Good Behavior_. Stay.” Mox pleaded, “What if somethin' happens?”

 

She snorted. “I'm sure someone breaking into my apartment is going to think twice once they see me sleeping in the same bed as you.”

 

“F' y'r close I can protec' you.” he mumbled, feeling shame warm his face as he realized she was right. She was more fit to defend the both of them at this point. He was a fucking wreck.

 

He released her hand, surprised when she climbed over him in the bed to snuggle down beside him. “If someone breaks in, I'm throwing you at them.” she warned, making Mox grin tiredly into the pillow.

 

“Sounds fair t' me.”

 

…

 

It wasn't often that Mox was awake before noon, the usual mending his body had to do knocking him out for hours. Yet here he was, alive at seven forty fucking five in the morning. He wasn't sure this time still _existed_. Unfamiliar bed, which had happened before. Unfamiliar alarm going off, piano music. Body beside him _was_ familiar though, which eased some of the tension out of his limbs.

 

He thought back on last night, brow furrowing at the numerous missing pieces. His skull felt like someone was beating it in with a hammer. She exhaled, sighing out loudly. Mox debated reaching over her and silencing her alarm. He raised his head and was horrified to find that the pillowcase was smeared with blood.

 

_Fuck_ .

 

“...Mox...” Her fingers petted his hair lightly. “Y' sleep 'kay?”

 

Moxley felt positively sick to his stomach when she opened her eyes and jolted back, probably disgusted at the stains that were all over his face and neck and her pillow, oh God her pillow was _ruined_. He started stammering out an apology, not sure what he could really do as he fumbled to move. It was like his body was too heavy, all the suffering of the past month catching up with him once he fell into a comfortable bed.

 

“Shit. You were coughing a lot in your sleep. I should have known.” She slid her thumb over his upper lip. “Nosebleed. Okay. I'll get another washcloth. Stay put.” She was ridiculously no-nonsense about this and it made Jon a little scared.

 

He wondered how many times she'd woken up in her own blood, or sore and hurt with no one to take care of her. His heart sank and he quickly crushed the thought, unwilling to cause himself that kind of fucking grief this early in the morning.

 

Mox tried apologizing again once she came back with her washcloth, having finally managed to sit up. She just shushed him though, looking very firm as she dabbed at his face. His whole body ached. Kind of felt like he got hit by a truck.

 

An  _ugly_ truck with fucking  _stupid_ baggy pants.

 

“Are you going to be alright here by yourself?” she asked after she was done swabbing the blood off his neck. She started yanking the dirty pillowcase off the pillow beside him.

 

Jon looked up, startled.  _What?_

 

“I need to go to work. Are you going to be alright?” She raised her eyebrow when he stayed silent. “Mox?”

 

“You uh...y' trust me in ya' place? Unsupervised?” This was blowing his mind. _Maybe I'm still asleep. Yeah. That must be it. I'm out in a fucking gutter somewhere._

 

She looked confused, which surprised him even more. “Obviously? Now answer the question. If I hurry I can probably drop you back off at the CZ warehouse before work. That's only if you want to go there though.”

 

“I... _can_ I stay here?” Moxley hated how his voice sounded, all shaky like he was about to get backhanded. “'ll get eaten alive f' y' sen' me back to CZ like this, Kitten.”

 

“I figured as much, that's why I offered. I'll be back around five. There's food in the fridge. Use the laptop if you want, no porn though please.” She laid out the rules easily, like she'd done this a million times before.

 

Mox felt his throat tighten. Her bed was so fucking  _comfortable_ and there was fucking  _sunlight_ peeking between the blinds and the rug was soft under his hole-filled socks... 

 

She was still looking at him, her hand outstretched for him to shake and agree. He finally did, her fingers gentle around his buddy-taped ring finger and pinky. “I still have some of his shit in a box by the door. All clean, of course. If it fits, wear it, okay?” she offered.

 

_Kitten you're fucking killing me here_ . Mox thought in a panic, ducking his head so she couldn't see him getting all weepy. “Yep, got it.” he mumbled. 

 

She ruffled his hair, seeming strangely fond of him. Then she headed off to shower and go to work. This struck Jon as a  _terrifyingly_ domestic situation and he realized he was in over his head. The only thing he could think of doing was slowly, carefully moving to that box she'd drawn his attention to and shuffling through it.

 

_God fucking dammit_ . He sighed after he tugged on a plain black shirt, folding his dirty one and putting it down on the rug beside the box. The only pants in the box were sweatpants and getting those on was a bit of a struggle. Jon ended up rolling one leg over his injured calf so it wouldn't rub it at all, fighting a flinch when he laid back down on his back.

 

The ceiling was weirdly clean, free of stains and painted a cream color. Light yellowish. Same as the walls. There was a hole in the wall by the door that had been fairly recently patched, the plaster standing out stark white against the yellow.

 

Jon swallowed hard.  _All the pretty paint can't cover up the bruises sometimes, huh Kitten._ He twiddled his fingers, resting his hands on his chest. The absence of his collar gnawed at him, that and his hunger keeping him from falling back to sleep. He finally left the bed an hour or so later, making his way to the kitchen. 

 

A bowl, a bottle of Tylenol and a box of Captain Crunch was on the table. She'd left a note with a smiley face on the box. ' _Eat up!_ '

 

Mox couldn't help the sob that escaped and he knew he must look like a fucking  _lunatic_ , bawling his eyes out while wolfing down brightly-colored cereal.

 

He found the paint in the cabinet under the sink. He'd been searching for a sponge so he could wash out his bowl and his hand brushed the can. Mox congratulated himself on his genius plan of using his filthy old shirt as a dropcloth, catching paint drips before they could land on the carpet in the bedroom. Yeah sure, something that was hopefully dirt and probably not blood ended up on the wall, but in the grand scheme of things he felt he did a pretty good job. The paint was back under the sink before lunchtime.

 

After he showered (taking a  _ridiculously_ long time under the hot water) Mox spent the afternoon lolling around on her bed. He finally turned to jacking off out of boredom, the pain in his busted finger making him  _almost_ decide against it. She'd said no porn, but it wasn't exactly like he had no fucking imagination. Especially with her smell all over everything. His wrist  _was_ still pretty sore, though. God only knew the full extent of Damage's onslaught. 

 

Moxley grimaced, rubbing a hand over his quickly-hardening cock in his sweatpants. He'd taken such a fucking beating he was kind of surprised his body was even interested in that shit. At least the pain was all dulled down to an almost-pleasant buzz, instead of the shrieking zing of broken bones or the pounding that came with fresh bruises. As long as he didn't try to move too quick, he'd probably be fine.

 

Mox had a bad habit of talking to himself while he jacked off. Bit of a combination of loneliness and flat-out narcissism. The topic of conversation was a little...different this time, though. “ _O-oh_ Kitten, m' a bad fuckin' dog.” he muttered, “No-collar fuckin' mutt.” Mox pulled the sweatpants down around his thighs and yanked his shirt up. “God fuckin' awful bastard.” He knew he didn't deserve anything good, with how he was. _Definitely_ didn't deserve to fuck his fist in her bed. The sheets were so fucking clean, the pillows were so fucking soft.

 

“Wonder if y' miss my cock.” Jon mused, licking his palm and wrapping his hand around his dick. “Wonder f' ya' touch y'self, missin' me.” And what a fantasy _that_ was. Her all spread out, legs wide open as she played with herself and thought about him. Mox groaned, wondering if she teased her tits to get herself off. Those _wonderful_ tits. Maybe she got off in a different way though, humping a pillow or something.

 

_What if she's got toys?_

 

Mox's cock throbbed in his fist while his brain conjured up a _filthy_ fucking scenario. He would fuck her with her favorite toy first. Her cries and chanting of ' _more_ ' loud in his ears, her fingers tight on his shiny new collar because _obviously_ she'd get him a new collar, one that had her name on it. And right after he got her off for the first time, he'd swap the toy for his cock and just...pound her into the fucking mattress like she wanted, exactly like she needed. She would give him what he needed along the way, stroke his hair and tug his collar and make him feel owned, safe.

 

_Good dog_.

 

His brow furrowed while he thrust his hips weakly up, his injured leg keeping him from doing his best. “For fuck's sake K-Kitten, y' could choke me out n' I'd be okay wi' it.” he admitted softly. Maybe she wouldn't mind. Maybe she'd like him all battered. Maybe she liked taking care of people. She'd tell him he was good, keep away the shitty tears that always came whenever someone fucking indulged his collar _thing_ for once. He'd get her off as many times as he could if she would just...

 

“ _Oh_ Kitten, o-oh fuck...” Jon gasped, his hand slowing as come spurted onto his stomach. His free hand was at his neck, going to toy with a collar that wasn't even _fucking_ there. Mox bit his lip.

 

_Bad fucking dog_ .

 

…

 

He healed up pretty well over the week, returning to his workouts quickly. Mox had never been one to rest on his laurels about anything. His lack of a collar still bothered him a fair bit, though. That and the fact that he really,  _really_ didn't want to go back to the warehouse. Oh sure, he loved the fighting despite all his bitching. But  _living_ there again was going to be torment after this place.

 

He broached the subject one evening over some spaghetti she made. Well, he helped. Sort of. If you considered opening the box of spaghetti and dumping it into the pot of water helping. “I should prob'ly get back soon.” Mox cringed at how disappointed he sounded, looking down at his plate and moving some pasta around.

 

“Back...?” she trailed off, her fork _clink_ ing against her plate.

 

“Y'know. T' work. Back t' CZ.” He grimaced. _God I'm pitiful, all dejected and shit. Fuck's sake, **bad** dog. You didn't deserve this soft stuff from the get-go. Quit acting so fucking spoiled_.

 

“Oh! Oh.” Her voice shook a little bit and Mox looked up, startled. “I was kind of...I mean I thought...” She petered out, shrugging halfheartedly. “Okay.”

 

Hope felt like it was crushing Jon's lungs. “Kitten?” he asked cautiously, reaching for one of her hands. She let him take it. She didn't pull away. “Y' gonna' miss me, maybe? Y' gonna' worry 'bout me? Come n' watch me fight some more?”

 

“Shut up.” she whispered.

 

Mox wanted to fucking  _sing_ . “Y' don't wan' me t' go. Ya' want me t' stay here, Kitten? Wan' me t' fight for  _you?_ ” He leaned in over the table. “I can win for ya'. F' I'm not livin' there they can't take lodgin' an' food outta' my fight pay. I don' make much, bu' whatever I fuckin' do is yours. Groceries or...or bills or stuff. I dunno'.” He was rambling now. “We ain't gotta'  _date_ or nothin', f' y' don't want to. Y' know I c'n paint, fix simple stuff. I can be good for ya', I promise-”

 

“ _Jon_.” Her usage of his real name stopped him dead. She'd always called him Mox. His heart pounded in his chest. “I don't want you to have to go back there.” she continued finally. “At least not to live. I know it's your job and stuff, but I really...I'd rather you stay here with me, honestly.”

 

“Oh, _Kitten!_ ” he burst out, bolting around the table. He almost knocked over her chair when he scooped her up bodily, nuzzling his face into her neck while she laughed and slapped his chest.

 

“Put me down, you big mutt!” she giggled when he rubbed his perpetual stubble over her cheek, “That tickles!”

 

…

 

She gave him a new collar, right before his first match back. Mox's eyes had gone wide when she slipped it out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Put it on f' me?” he begged, getting down on one knee to give her easy access to his neck. “Please.”

 

It was brown leather like his old one, already smooth. She buckled it and Mox could feel her hands shaking.

 

He grinned up at her, catching both of her hands and kissing her knuckles. “They don't stan' a chance, Kitten. Sami n' I'll crush 'em.”

 

She rubbed a hand through his hair, freshly washed and brushed. “Good.” Her smile kind of got him right in the stomach. She was so fucking happy.

 

The knowledge that she was watching him fight made Mox feel like a fucking  _king_ . He barely felt any of the aches of the last match, throwing guys around as if they weighed nothing. Callihan was back! He belonged to someone! He was fed and rested, not hungover and disgusting! He wanted to laugh at their opponents, settling instead for showing his teeth and being a fucking loudmouthed nuisance like always. Callihan fed off his enthusiasm, whooping and hollering along with his partner as they slugged their way through the matches.

 

At the end of four grueling bouts they emerged victorious, Mox staggering with exhaustion and Callihan only barely hanging on himself. He clung to Mox's collar, finally unclipping the chain secured to it. “ _You did great Mox!_ ” he yelled over the crowd, “ _did fuckin' great!_ ”

 

Mox ran a hand over Sami's close-cut hair, raising his other hand balled up in a fist. Vortekz and Gage and Younger and  _Damage_ could fucking pound sand. Tonight, the Switchblade Conspiracy rode again.

 

“ _We did it!_ ”

 

…

 

She was on him the second the door closed behind them, laughing and cupping his face and saying shit like  _I'm so proud of you_ and  _you did so good!_ Mox fought the urge to duck away from the praise, reminding himself that yeah, he may deserve it after tonight.

 

“Thank ya', Kitten. None of that shit woulda' happened f' it wasn' for you.” he admitted, closing his eyes and tilting his head back when she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled gently. “M' yours now. Long as y' want me.”

 

She made great sounds, always had. When he pinned her to the wall next to the spot he'd painted she whimpered and rolled her hips against his, greedy and impatient. “Shh, Mox is gonna' fuck ya' til' y' can't walk, Kitten.” he said softly, feeling her shake when he slipped her pants down her legs. “That's righ', ya' better be good an' wet for Mox. I'm fuckin'  _hungry_ tonight.” He knelt when he slid her panties down as well, looking up at her. She looked  _amazing_ , her shirt all rumpled and eyes wide as she waited, panting a little bit. When he didn't move she grabbed his collar and pulled.

 

“ _Please_.” 

 

Mox couldn't help the fucking moan he let out, tongue lolling out in a lewd tease before he let himself be moved toward the junction of her thighs. He kissed her pussy messily, getting a soft cry out of her. Clearly, watching him fight got her all kinds of excited because she was dripping onto his tongue already.

 

“ _Kitten_ y' a fuckin' _slut_ f'r me, huh?” he asked raggedly, digging his fingers into the backs of her thighs and urging her to his face afterwards. Jon groaned at how her hand tightened on his collar and directed him, that and the fucking noises she was making telling him how much she was enjoying this. She came apart so easy for him, bucking her hips and crying out when he sucked on her clit. Mox felt like he was in a fucking dream, all dazed when she slumped over him. 

 

He shifted her further back on his shoulder and stood, laughing when she swore under her breath. “Shh, I got ya'.”

 

“You'd _better_ be planning on fucking the daylights out of me.”

 

Jon thought he couldn't get any harder but apparently he was wrong. “Yep.”

 

“Good.” She smirked up at him when he laid her down on the bed, making him sigh out a breath when she stroked him through his jeans. “Feels like you're ready.”

 

“Been ready f'r a while.” Moxley admitted, pecking her on the forehead and digging out his wallet for a condom. “This rate I may's well keep th' whole fuckin' _box_ on hand.” he grunted. Her laugh was still one of the nicest sounds he'd ever heard.

 

He quickly unzipped his jeans and peeled them off, yanking his shirt over his head as an afterthought. She had rolled over onto her stomach while he was busy, her hips up and fingers lazily rubbing back and forth over her clit. Jon swallowed hard, watching for a minute while she teased herself. She finally wiggled her hips back at him, breaking his trance with a soft murmur of “ _well?_ ”

 

Mox knocked her hand away, instead smoothly slipping his cock over her opening. She keened, shuddering when the head of it pushed against her clit. “Say the word, Kitten.” he growled, propping himself up with his arms on either side of her. “ _Say_ th'  _fuckin_ ' word.”

 

“ _Please!_ ” she cried, arching back against him when he finally pushed into her. Moxley pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade, moaning when she got her fingers around his collar and fucking _jerked_ him down. 

 

“Needy, huh Kitten?” he asked, unsure whether he was going to slap himself _already_. She just begged more, _more_ out of him and yeah, he was pretty sure he was fucked because no matter how fast he went or how hard he dragged her back onto his cock she just wanted more. She kept him tight against her with the collar and he fought for breath a few times, hiccuping out soft noises to match her.

 

Mox finally forgot what the  _fuck_ he was doing and bit down on her shoulder, probably hard enough to hurt. He instantly flinched back, horrified. Her whole body went stiff.

 

_Bad dog_ \-- _!_

 

Then she was coming around him, screaming into the pillow, fisting the sheets and rocking back onto his cock like it was the best thing in the world. To say Mox was confused would be an understatement. “Y' okay, Kitten?” he asked hesitantly, rubbing his thumb over the teeth marks he'd left.

 

“ _Mox_...” she panted, shifting her hips like that was all she had the strength to do. 

 

Mox's brow furrowed. “Didn't hurt ya', right?”

 

“Want it. Liked it. _Please_ , _Jon_.” The way she said his name, his _real_ name, made his stomach twist. 

 

He groaned, planting a hand in the small of her back and pressing her almost flat to the bed. “Shh...” he crooned, “Mox's got... _Jon's_ got ya', Kitten. Y' loyal fuckin' mutt.”

 

She made a helpless noise at that, crying out when he grabbed her hips and started thrusting into her in earnest. Mox could eat pussy but Jon could  _fuck_ , cradling her hips in his hands and carefully giving her  _exactly_ what she needed to come again. It wasn't long before she was moaning into the pillow once more, body moving against his own and making him fucking  _want_ and  _need_ more than anything in the fucking  _world_ \--

 

“Not gonna' slap m'self _this_ time.” he snarled into her ear, making her shudder underneath him. “Gonna' fuckin' come in ya' til' I'm fuckin' spent. Maybe I'll fuck y' through it. Dunno-”

 

Her hand caught his collar one last time, twisting it until his air was cut off. Mox came  _hard_ , hips stuttering against her while she whimpered and shook around him. His eyes closed and he just luxuriated in the swimming feeling of no air for a second, the burning pull of his lungs quickly becoming urgent.

 

He coughed breathlessly and she hastily let go of him. “Are you okay? Oh God, I'm so sorry.” she panted, rolling onto her back and looking up at him worriedly while he gasped for breath. “I thought that was...I mean I read up about it so I figured-”

 

Mox held up a finger, still sucking wind. “Y' good.” he finally got out, standing on shaking legs to get rid of the condom. “ _Damn_ good, Kitten.”

 

She looked a little less worried at that, the tension going out of her. “Okay. Okay, alright.” she murmured, opening her arms when he got back into the bed. “C'mere.”

 

Jon allowed himself to be wrapped in her hug, her hand stroking his hair gently. “Too good t' me.” he mumbled, feeling warm and content.

 

“You're mine, right? You deserve this, because I said so.” she replied firmly. “Now shush.”

 

After a minute he pressed his lips to the side of her neck, gently nibbling when she arched against him and sighed happily.

 

“ _Good Kitten_.”

 


	4. Self-Care Special

Mox's favorite mornings were the ones where she didn't have work. Where he could wake up ridiculously early and just watch the sun come up over her.

 

Slowly, carefully, she'd be bathed in golden light. It would scoot up her legs, across her stomach and torso. She always threw the blankets off her side of the bed. Hot sleeper. Mox didn't mind though. More blankets for him to wrap up in while he waited for the sun to gently wake her up.

 

More often than not she'd be naked, either through Mox's doing or the aforementioned hot sleeping. There was something incredibly soothing about seeing her all laid out and relaxed. It _should_ have put him into a froth. He knew himself. Pretty, naked girl, same bed as him?

 

But he usually just felt kind of…at peace. Like maybe, just maybe, he might deserve this. Dangerous thinking. He couldn't help it sometimes, though. She'd be smiling or laughing at something and he'd realize that he was staring, or that he had a big stupid grin on his face.

 

This morning was cloudy. The first nip of fall was in the air and Mox, all bundled up in the blankets as usual, rolled over to see her. He kissed her nose, barely having to fight down the urge to bite anymore. She had changed him so much in such a short time.

 

She stretched, smiling sleepily up at him. Mox felt his heart pound almost painfully in his chest, reaching out a hand to cup her face. She murmured something, pressing a kiss to his fingertips and then snuggling into her pillow. Jon bit back a moan, knowing that getting aroused over basic human decency was probably _not_ an attractive trait. At least not this early in the morning.

 

She rolled against his side, flinging an arm and leg over him. Mox chewed on his knuckles, slightly confused. Normally if she didn't _have_ to be up, she wasn't waking up until at least nine.

 

She tugged at the corner of the blanket, and he obligingly untucked it from underneath him to share. Mox flinched at how cold her legs were, and when he wrapped his arms around her the rest of her was just as cold. That's what they got for sleeping with the window open, he supposed.

 

"Ya' alrigh' Kitten?" he mumbled, tucking her in closer to him. "Ya' chilly."

 

"M' okay," was her soft reply, muffled against his chest. Mox touched her forehead with the back of his hand. She didn't _feel_ any different, but then again he was pretty sure he wasn't a mom and didn't have that...built-in fever sensing power.

 

"Y' sick Kitten?"

 

"Mm, no. Jus' cold."

 

"Starve, righ'? It's…starve a fever?"

 

"Jon." Her using his real name still gave him pause. "Shh. I don't hav'ta be conscious f' like… _hours_. Lemme' sleep."

 

"M' sorry, Kitten. Don't wan' anythin' t' happen." Mox replied softly, petting her hair and kissing the top of her head. "Mox'll keep ya' warm. Don't you worry."

 

...

 

She worked very hard. Long hours, always picking up extra time whenever she could. Mox knew he shouldn't have been surprised that she would work until she dropped.

 

She'd been sluggish and exhausted the night before, going to bed very early. Mox had been prepared for her to call out sick and was horrified to wake up alone, _way_ later than normal.

 

He scrambled out of bed, giving the apartment a quick search. _Shit. She_ _ **did**_ _go in_. Mox ran a hand through his hair, muttering a swear under his breath. "Kitten, come the fuck on." he grumbled.

 

The apartment phone rang and he jumped about a foot. The phone _never_ rang, not in the two months he'd lived there. Mox's heart sank and he cautiously picked it up like it was going to bite him. He fumbled a second with the buttons, finally hitting the right one to answer.

 

"Uh. Hello?" he said slowly, already feeling awkward.

 

" _Hello! Sorry to bother you, I was wondering if I could speak with a…'Jon'?_ "

 

Mox's brow furrowed. "Speakin'."

 

" _Oh! I'm so glad I caught you before you left the house, sweetheart. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I'm calling on behalf of your girlfriend-_ "

 

_Oh God oh no oh fucking Christ no._ "She okay?" Mox managed to say through his mental panic.

 

" _She's not feeling too good honey. I'm sure you already knew that though. She wants to just hop on the bus and go home but I'm not sure if she's fit to travel alone. I don't suppose you could_ -"

 

"I un'erstan. I'll leave in five. Tell her t' stay put." Mox said curtly, already struggling into a less hole-filled pair of jeans. "I ‘preciate ya' callin' me, ma'am."

 

The bus seemed to take forever. It was crowded as hell, and someone apparently had a tuna fish sandwich in their pocket that they'd forgotten about because it fucking _reeked_. Mox stood the whole time, glaring at a businessman who kept giving him weird looks.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief once he escaped that hell, squaring his shoulders and straightening out his battered leather jacket in front of her building. _You can do this. You're Jon fucking Moxley. Best fucking fighter in the CZ, all around bad motherfucker. This is pussy shit._

 

He strode into the office building, and was abruptly faced with the greatest challenge of his life to date.

 

_Is that a fucking receptionist. Oh, fuck me._

 

Mox felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His palms started to sweat and he frantically wished that he'd smoothed his curls into some semblance of order. "I uh. ‘Scuse me ma'am?"

 

She somehow looked up at him while also looking down at him. Jon's stomach twisted and a hand rose unconsciously to his neck. He was still wearing his collar.

 

_Shit_ .

 

"I'm um. I'm here for my…girlfriend? Someone called, said she ain't--she _isn't_ doin' well?"

 

The woman brightened up considerably. "Oh! You're Jon! Sweetheart, she's told us so much about you. She's resting in the break room now. Just a little fevery I guess." She scooted the candy dish on her desk towards Moxley. "Take a butterscotch with you for her. She loves them." She lowered her voice, as if speaking with a conspirator. “Take two, if you'd like.”

 

_She loves butterscotch._ Mox took two and started off down the hallway she pointed him towards. _Kitten loves butterscotch_. He rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he'd shaved before he left. He probably looked like a fucking hobo. No wonder that business guy had glared at him.

 

At least the break room was clearly indicated, and lacked a door for him to awkwardly knock on. Jon could see her sitting at a table from the doorway, and he fought the urge to run to her. Quickly walking/half-jogging didn't count. "Kitten!" he said gladly, almost taking a step back when she looked up. She looked like she'd been crying, her face all puffy. "Kitten?" he said a little quieter, kneeling beside her chair. "What's happenin'? What's wrong?"

 

"Don't feel good." she snuffled. "Hot all over and so tired, Jon. There was just this project that needed to get done and…I didn't want to let anyone down."

 

"S' okay Kitten, shh. I'm here t' take ya' home. Y' workin' too hard an' it's bitin' ya' in the ass." Mox took both her hands in his own. "Cmon Kitten. I've hadda' take care of sick people before. Y' gonna' be jus' fine." He dug around in his pocket. "The lady out at the desk wanted me t' give ya' a butterscotch. Should make ya' throat feel better anyway."

 

She unwrapped the butterscotch and popped it into her cheek, mumbling "I feel crappy, Jon. It just hit me so hard about an hour ago. Thought I was going to pass out."

 

"I've gotcha' now, Kitten. Y' safe with me."

 

…

 

Jon was used to taking care of sick people that _acted_ sick when they were sick. People like Callihan, who treated every sneeze as a major crisis, or like his mother, who was all too ready to shut down. He wasn't used to _this_ , though.

 

She refused to rest, refused to stop. She tried to pick up the apartment once they'd gotten home. She wanted to make dinner. She was _obviously_ sick, couldn't really move much of anything and her skin was all flushed.

 

Jon was at a loss after telling her to sit down for what felt like the twelfth time. "Kitten _please_. Y' got chairs for a reason. Go test 'em f' me."

 

She shook her head, a glazed expression on her face. Mox gritted his teeth. He knew that look. "Kitten y' gonna' go down hard f' ya' don't sit down. Take some deep breaths. Look, sit here an' watch me make dinner. Y' can point out what I do wrong, okay?"

 

That seemed to work. Mox heaved a sigh of relief when she sat down at the table. "Y' worryin' the shit outta' me, y'know that?" he grumbled. "I know y' prob'ly used t' bein' a hardass, but Jesus fuckin' Christ. Y' gotta' take care of _you_ , Kitten."

 

“I'm not used to anyone caring, that's all.” she said quietly a few minutes later. “I know I'll be alright. Few more hours, let this shit run its course.”

 

Moxley paused. A few scenarios jittered uneasily through his mind, and he cursed his overactive imagination. How many times had she been forced to work through feeling sick or exhausted just because the alternative was 'being home'?

 

_With that fucker?_

 

“S' it okay if I make eggs? M' really good at it.” he finally asked, hoping she would ignore his long silence.

 

She nodded, resting her head on the table while Jon grabbed a pan. He wracked his brain for something to talk about, to keep her attention so she wouldn't feel so shitty. The egg he cracked into the pan sizzled softly.

 

“This one time I made breakfast for Nick F'n Gage. Honest to God truth.” he began, trying to recall the story correctly.

 

“What? No way. I thought you guys hated each other!” she replied, her interest clearly piqued as she stared up at him.

 

“I promise! It all started with a Tournament Of Death...”

 

…

 

“I still can't believe you hit him in the face with a hot frying pan, sheesh.” she yawned while he quite literally tucked her in to bed.

 

Mox laughed. “ _I_ sure as shit can. He'd sliced my arm open with a fuckin' busted dinner plate earlier that day. Gage can pound fuckin' sand.”

 

“You have such great stories, Mox. Wonder sometimes if they're even true.” she said through another yawn, her eyes already closing. Mox shushed her, kissing her forehead and pulling the blankets up to her chin.

 

“I wan' y' to stay covered t'night, okay Kitten? Sleep good.” he murmured, backing out of the room and closing the door as he left. He still had that pan to clean in the kitchen sink.

 

Moxley had a moment where he almost lost his cool, up to his elbows in soapy water. He caught sight of his dim reflection in the window over the sink.

 

He stopped scrubbing the pan and braced himself against the counter, a little stunned. The guy looking back at him hadn't been seen for quite a while. His face had filled out. No more bruises under his eyes, no sickly pale skin. He looked healthy as fuck aside from a healing cut on his lip and the barbed-wire pinpricks on his arm.

 

Jon swallowed hard.

 

“ _You have such great stories, Mox_.”

 

“I wonder,” he murmured to himself, rubbing at his eyes. “Wonder if y' the reason I get t' keep tellin' 'em, Kitten.”

 

…

 

She woke  _him_ up the next morning, growling about how fucking  _hot_ it was under the blankets. “Mm, how y' feel Kitten?” Mox grunted, snickering when she hauled the blankets off of the both of them and gasped dramatically.

 

“Freedom! Air, sweet air!” she sighed, splaying her arms and legs.

 

“Had me worried f'r a minute there yesterday.” Mox admitted, struggling to straighten the blankets back out. “Y' seemed real sick.”

 

“I know I ought to take more time off.” she said after several minutes of letting him get his blankets the way he liked them. “It's an _office_ job for fuck's sake. It's not like they're going to fall apart if I'm not around. I...I feel bad sometimes. I just want to help so I take more and more of the work until whoops! I'm overworked and burnt out again.” She flailed her arms to illustrate her points. 

 

“Kitten, I know it sucks when y' feel like ya' lettin' people down. But ya' gotta' understan', _you_ come first. Okay?” Moxley said firmly. “Only _you_ know ya' limits. An' ya' need t' start takin' care of y'self. 'Cause at the end of the day, no other fucker will.”

 

“Except you, right?” The look she gave him made him want to groan. Even with all her clothes on she was pure fucking mischief.

 

“Nah, y' never know when I'll let ya' down jus' like all those other scrubs, Kitten. Ya' better be on the lookout f'r number one.” He let the silence sink in before whispering, “because the last thing anyone wants is number two--”

 

“Oh my God, _shut up!_ ” she squealed, walloping him with one of the pillows. “How are you concerned about me in one breath and then making shit jokes in the next?!”

 

“It's a talent?” He shrugged, quickly yanking the blankets over his head to avoid her continued onslaught. “I ain't apologizin' for it! I was scared yesterday! I hadda' talk t' ya' receptionist an' I thought she was gonna' kick my ass!” he yelled from beneath the covers.

 

“Don't you give me that _crap_ Moxley! She's a sweet old lady!” she berated him, clearly laughing.

 

“Sweet ol' lady w' a schoolmarm glare that'd freeze ya' piss! I'm glad I was there for _you_ , otherwise m' pretty sure I'd a' been out on my rear.” he snorted, peeling the blanket away to peek out. She was on her back, giggling helplessly. “Y' talk about me there though, Kitten? She said so.”

 

She froze.

 

“Ain't a bad thing or nothin'. Jus' a lil' curious about what y' say.” Mox said frankly. “What shit could ya' be tellin' these workin' class guys 'bout Mox?”

 

“They're mostly just happy I'm with someone who doesn't make me cry all the time.” she answered after a few seconds.

 

Mox had the sneaking suspicion that the cold, dead heart in his chest was neither cold nor dead anymore. “Cry?”

 

She waved off the question, and he hated how sad she looked as she seemed to try and collect herself. “I tell them about the sweet things you do. Like how you put my towel in the dryer so it's warm when I get out of the shower. How you help me reach things, even though you're a total  _jerk_ about it and make me pay the kiss toll.” She rolled her eyes. “One of my friends  _really_ liked that whole 'kiss toll' idea though, so I'm afraid it might have spread.”

 

“Good!” Mox smirked. “More kissin' can't be a bad thing.”

 

“And stuff like that, when you say really out of the blue cute things.”

 

Jon felt his face heat up. “Ain't that outta' the...okay, maybe a  _little_ . Shit, Kitten, y' ruined my cred with these people already.” he mumbled, flustered.

 

She laughed, rumpling his hair. “You'll get over it, you big mutt.” She flopped onto her back again, looking over at him curiously. “Were you really that worried about me?”

 

“Kitten I...dammit. You're probably the bes' thing that's happened t' me so far in my _life_. 'Course I was fuckin' worried.” he confessed. “I mean I know a fever ain't gonna' take anyone out in this day'n age, but still. It's scary shit when the girl y' love gets...sick...” Mox trailed off, brow furrowing when she pulled the blanket up and got under it again. “Ain't ya' warm, Kitten?”

 

“A little bit.” She wriggled against his side momentarily. “Could be warmer.”

 

“Shit. Maybe y' still fevery.” he said worriedly.

 

“Mm, could be.” Her voice was muffled when she ducked her head under the blanket. Mox went to wrap an arm around her shoulders but she had moved too far down for him to do so.

 

“Kitten wh-- _oh_.” he gasped when her fingers wrapped around his cock through his boxers. She made a humming sound and it felt like his whole body came to life. “Kitten y' don't have-”

 

“Shush.” she murmured, mouthing wetly over the front of his boxers and making him groan out. “Let me.”

 

“I had a dream that started kinda' like this.” Mox managed to say, “More whipped cream though. Less blankets.” He could feel her shaking with laughter. “Don't laugh, ya' hot as _fuck_ with whipped cream on y' tits, Kitten. _Dangerous_ shit, considerin' how hot ya' are normally.”

 

“I am not--”

 

Mox growled. “Ya' hotter than the fuckin'  _sun_ , Kitten. An' the way I get ya' all hot n' bothered is a fuckin'  _treat_ . Makes me feel like a badass, when I'm tossin' guys aroun' an' I know you're watchin'.” He winked down at her and she rolled her eyes, tugging his boxers lower. 

 

“I love it when you're desperate.” she teased, pulling her shirt off over her head and tossing it aside. Mox, as usual, couldn't help the noise that escaped him. “Aw, is someone feeling a little needy?” she crooned when his hands found their way to her breasts. “Don't worry. You took good care of me yesterday. I'm going to take care of you today.” she promised, covering his hands with her own.

 

“This ain't for me, Kitten. S' for you. N' if it isn't, I'm not doin' it.” Mox said firmly, “So let _me_.” He sat up, bumping his forehead into her shoulder. “How d'ya want me?”

 

She seemed lost for a second before finally saying, “However you want. If it's about me, then it's also about you. Because if you hadn't knocked my ex's lights out, I'm pretty sure I'd still be in that hell. So. What do you want? I'm fresh out of whipped cream at the moment, I'm afraid.” Her fingers laced through his collar. “Just have a mutt.”

 

Mox snarled, “Mutt that fucks like a  _champ_ .” He caught her arm and easily turned her over, pressing her into the mattress. “Does this pussy need a little attention? Achin' for Jon yet, Kitten?” he whispered in her ear, nipping the back of her neck and sliding a hand beneath her to prop her hips up. “Mm, looks like ya' might be. What kinda' jerk left ya' all high n' wet like this? Motherfucker.” His finger easily slipped inside her and she moaned when he just barely crooked it.

 

“Jon, stop teasing!” she whimpered.

 

“I dunno' Kitten, gettin' you riled is a fuckin' joy sometimes.” He wrapped an arm around her hip beneath her stomach to stroke her clit, and bit back a surprised grunt when she rocked against him. “Playin' _dirty_ , Kitten? Y' gonna' get punished.” 

 

“Try me.” she huffed into the pillows, sounding annoyed. She reached back and grabbed his collar, but he shook free.

 

“Nope. Jon is gonna' have t' take over.” And with that he straightened up, settling in between her thighs on his knees. “You're my kitten, righ'? Since day one. Lemme' take care of ya'.” He pressed his cock against her cunt, keeping an iron grip on her hip and preventing her from moving. Surprisingly, she balled her hands into the blankets instead of trying to grab at him again. “Look at you, bein' a good kitten for me. So pretty when y' like this.” he murmured. “F' this makes y' uncomfortable, though, we can stop, okay?”

 

She shook her head, moving as best as she could against him. Jon groaned as his cock slid into her tight heat. “Fuck's sake Kitten, fuck's sake.” he muttered, his free hand shifting to one of her breasts. She whined into the pillow as he slowly, carefully fucked down into her, making sure she felt every inch of him. “Y' make me wanna' fuck y' raw.” he gasped into her ear. Her whole body shuddered and she moaned underneath him. “The fuckin' noises, way y' move.  _Shit_ Kitten, ya' undo me fuckin' quick.” His fingers moved in teasing circles around her nipple, and he felt her spasm. “ _Oh_ , fuck.”

 

“Please fuck me.” she begged, making Mox pause. “Fuck me like you mean it, don't fucking tease _please_ Jon please please-”

 

He wrapped his arms around her stomach and ground her down into the mattress, hips pistoning wildly against her. She screamed, “ _Fuck! Yes!_ ” and whatever concerns he had were erased as she came around him. Mox didn't stop for a second, fucking her into a second orgasm right after the first. 

 

He barely kept from digging his teeth into her shoulder, settling for mouthing over the area and snarling in a self-satisfied manner, “I'm gonna' fuck the  _shit_ outta' ya', Kitten.” 

 

He was all but dragging her back onto him, forcing her to take as much of him as she could. He knew she would make him stop if it was too much and strangely, it made him feel even wilder than he already did. “ _Kitten_ ...” he purred in her ear as her second orgasm left her speechless. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. “I think y' like this, don't you? Like havin' me in control every once in a while, huh? Reminds ya' of our first time, I bet.” he teased, “Me all ready t' fuck an' you jus' walkin' up to me and strokin' me through my jeans like a fuckin'  _slut_ , like y' couldn't wait for me. Naughty fuckin'  _beautiful_ ,  _perfect_ kitten.”

 

“Y-you made me feel safe.” she managed to get out.

 

“I hope I never stop makin' ya' feel safe.” Jon groaned, gasping out a laugh when she nodded furiously. “Gonna' make y' feel so fuckin' safe, Kitten. Holy fuck.” She rose up on her hands and knees and thrust back onto him, making him cry out and grab her hips. “Oh _fuck_ , ya' naughty brat.” Mox grunted, swatting her on her ass and making her jolt forwards in surprise. He used the new angle she'd given him to drive furiously into her, rocking her up with every thrust. “Betcha' y' like this, don't you? Betcha ya' want me over you like this all the time. Fuckin' ya' into the mattress, makin' ya' legs shake, right Kitten?” he asked, baring his teeth when she arched her back.

 

“Please please I'm so _close_ -” she whimpered, “I'm gonna' fucking come _please_ Jon-”

 

Jon gave himself a slap across the face, groaning loudly when all it did was thrum that pleasure-pain through him. He must be losing his touch.

 

He slid his hands up her stomach to cup her breasts, toying with them as he slowed down. “Kinda' greedy, don't ya' think Kitten?” Mox sat back on his haunches, tilting her to fuck herself on his cock. She wriggled in the best way, crying out when he teased her nipples with his thumbs. “I mean, I guess I can make it happen. F' ya' want it, I should be able t' give it t' ya'.” he reasoned breathlessly, “No more games, Kitten.” His hands landed on her hips and he easily raised and lowered her onto his cock, doing his best to keep the tempo smooth so she would get off that third time just like she wanted. She circled her hips down onto him and thank fuck  _thank fuck_ she was coming because that was the last fucking straw. 

 

Mox pulled out, barely needing to touch himself before he came so fucking hard he went dark for a minute. When he came back around, his forehead was pressed to the small of her back and she was whimpering and shaking underneath him.

 

_Shit_ .

 

“Kitten?” he rasped, wiping his sticky hand off on his thigh and then helping her roll over. “Dammit. Shit. Did I hurt ya'?”

 

She raised one hand in a thumbs-up, panting for breath. Mox ran a hand through his hair, worriedly giving her the once over with his eyes. No bruises yet, didn't look like he'd marked her up.

 

_Shit. What did I fucking do. Bad dog_ .

 

“I need to get sick more often.” she finally managed to say, making him grin and crush her to his chest.

 

“You're a little _brat_ sometimes, y'know that?” Mox could hardly handle the relief he felt, cupping her face and kissing her until she broke away for air.

 

“Hey, I told you I'd let you know if I wasn't comfortable. I trust you! You ought to trust me.” she chided, lightly punching his shoulder.

 

“I know Kitten. M' sorry. Forgive me?” he pleaded, kissing her shoulders and collarbone.

 

She rolled her eyes, burying a hand in his hair and dragging him back up to her mouth. “You're forgiven. You're fine.” she breathed against his mouth when they parted again, “Don't worry so much. You're not like him, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

_Okay_ .

 

Mox suddenly felt disgusted. “Kitten it's so fuckin'  _early_ .”

 

She looked thrilled. “We could go back to sleep.”

 

“Y' read my mind. Get under here.” Mox ordered, dragging the blankets up over the two of them again. All the worry of yesterday was gone, leaving him feeling exhausted but pleasantly so. A little achy. He _might_ have gotten a bit overzealous.

 

“Precious fuckin' thing.” he murmured against her hair, kissing the top of her head. She mumbled something back, already half-asleep.

 

_Good Kitten._

 


	5. Broken Gently Fixed

Not every day was good. Mox knew he was living enough of a fairy tale already, why ask for more? He was fine with not every day being sunshine and rainbows.

 

It was at random usually, some little thing. He never blamed her though. How the hell  _ could _ he blame her? Even after everything she'd been through, she just welcomed him into her home and gave and  _ gave _ like it didn't matter, like it was easy. 

 

He'd  _ really _ noticed it when he made it home a little later than normal from a match one night. He stumbled in through the door, calling for her. Jon was half out of his mind from the pain but he saw her flinch, saw her cringe back when he reached for her and that stopped him in his tracks.

 

" _ Kitten? _ " he'd asked softly. " _ ya' alrigh'? Can I touch ya'? _ " Sometimes the touching made it worse, sometimes it made it better. He knew all too well the crawling feeling that set in with unwanted skin contact. She shook her head and he shifted away, giving her room. " _ What happened? Did he try somethin' at ya' work? _ "

 

" _ I just...someone that looked like him, probably wasn't him. I was crossing the street and he yelled something at me. _ " She tried to smile up at him. " _ It's kind of hard, you know? _ " 

 

Jon had nodded automatically. He didn't know the full extent of the damage that had been done. She didn't talk about it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know, honestly. He was already more than a little cross with himself for not tearing a chunk out of the guy instead of treating him like a human being and putting him down with his fists.

 

Anybody that could do something as ugly as whatever that fucker had done deserved to be ripped apart. The fact that she either wouldn't, or outright  _ couldn't _ talk about what had happened to her kept Jon up some nights.

 

There were days that she didn't want to be touched. Where she would just kind of...vanish into herself. Bundle up into blankets and quietly sit, or cry in the shower when she thought he couldn't hear. Mox knew he was a scumbag. A stray, a mutt. He didn't deserve her at her worst, never mind at her best.

 

_Dammit though Kitten, I'm **your** mutt. I want to help._

 

"I know it's hard. I dunno' _how_ hard exactly, but it can't be a fuckin' cakewalk." Mox said softly out of the blue one day, cradling her against his side. She shook her head, burying her face in his chest. "I'll kill 'im for ya', Kitten." he offered easily, making her snort. "Nuke his existence real quick n' clean, he'll never see it comin'." He nuzzled her cheek and kissed down her neck. "Won't know what fuckin' hit him."

 

Just the idea of giving her ex a legitimate beatdown had Mox's mind running wild. Maybe put a little more fear into the bastard instead of just knocking him out. If he ever got a rough estimate of the number of times that fucker was rough with her...punch for punch, kick for kick. Make him _scream_ , make him beg. Stand over him with his boot on his fucking _neck_ -

 

Jon realized he was half-hard. _Whoops,_ _I'm a little fucked up I guess_. He adjusted himself in his jeans, slouching further down on the couch.

 

She made a noise in her throat and ducked her head to kiss his hand. He groaned. "Fuck, Kitten. I'll do whatever y' fuckin' want if he _ever_ tries anythin'. You know that, righ'?"

 

"I know." Fingers had gone to work on his zipper. "Thank you."

 

"Wait, Kitten wait." Mox caught her hands, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I ain't promisin' shit for a mouth thank-you or t' get in ya' pants. I know y' worth more n' that shit. Just...lemme' hold ya' for a little while, alrigh'?"

 

"But I-" she started to protest. Something in the way her eyes looked sat in Jon's stomach funny. It wasn't a _comfortable_ look. Her shoulders were too tense, body too tight against him. She had been fine a second ago. Why all of a sudden...?

 

_Oh_ . Mox was abruptly nauseous, thinking frantically on how to diffuse this situation without making it worse. He wasn't exactly  _skilled_ in these matters, usually more than willing to engage in a little heavy petting. But her whole body screaming  _cringe_ and  _fearful_ made him want to do nothing but keep her in his arms and fucking snap at whoever thought they could interrupt.  _How many times, shithead? How many times did you threaten her into it? How many times did she try to refuse you? Enough times to realize that there was no point refusing? Enough times for her to start offering beforehand?_

 

_Enough times for her to run to the guy that wears a fucking dog collar and fights for money because **apparently** he's the safer bet._ Mox's lip curled momentarily, recalling the way she had stood stock-still beside him in the ring while he brushed his jaw against her leg.  _ When Moxley is the lesser of two evils, you know you're a piece of fucking shit _ .

 

"Kitten, body wants more'n the brain. Always does. I ain't even interested in it right now. An' you ain't willin', so this isn't a discussion." He tried to brush her off, removing her hand from his zipper and resting it lower on his leg. _Very_ gently. He could feel that he was treading on thin ice here.

 

"Not willing? I'm _always_ willing, super willing!" she insisted, even while her hand shook on his thigh.

 

Jon grimaced. _So much for delicacy. Time for honesty._ "Kitten ya' makin' my belly twist. How many times've ya' had t' do somethin' ya' didn't wanna' do, jus' so you wouldn't get ya' ass beat? I'm an asshole, true, but I'd like t' think I'm a different breed of asshole."

 

"Please, just let me-"

 

Jon slowly, carefully, got to his feet. "No, Kitten." he said as evenly as he could. "Not. Interested. Not angry with you, or anythin'. Jus' not interested, not up for bangin' right now."

 

He didn't expect her to burst into tears. _Shit fuck fucking shit-_ "Kitten!" Jon hastily knelt beside the couch, going to wrap his arms around her.

 

" _Don't touch me!_ " she screamed in panic, jerking away from him. Jon jumped back himself, terror starting to claw at his insides.

 

_What have I fucking done oh God what have I done bad dog_ _**bad dog!** _

 

"Not touchin'," he managed to say, holding his hands up and kneeling on the floor. "No touchin'. I gotcha' Kitten, my bad. My bad."

 

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She wouldn't stop sobbing out apologies, curling in on herself on the couch. Jon knelt silently on the rug for a while. He wasn't sure how long. When his knees went numb he finally moved, shifting to sit on his ass. She was still crying. He folded and unfolded his hands in his lap nervously.

 

_How many fucking times has she gone to pieces? How many times has she had to clean herself up off the floor after a fucking dispute? How many fucking bruises and how much fucking yelling?_ He shook his head. _Stop it. Shut up._

 

"Kitten, I know ya' think this is on you, okay? An' I prob'ly can't change ya' mind." Mox said softly, doing his best to keep his voice calm. Getting worked up was only going to make the situation worse. "I kinda' get it. I ain't had it nearly as bad as you or nothin', but I still kinda' get it. Ya' been fuckin' knocked down. Kicked aroun' and treated like the fuckin' garbage for so long that hey, maybe ya' think you are garbage."

 

She gave a hiccuping sob, nodding furiously. And now Mox knew for a fact that his heart was neither cold nor dead, because it felt like his chest was being sawed in half. He cleared his throat. "Kitten I hate t' break it to ya', but ya' not garbage at all. Furthest thing from it, actually. You're fuckin' good an' sweet an' kind, kindest person I fuckin' know. Shit Kitten, f' ya' need confirmation I am livin' fuckin' _proof_. I'm more whole than I ever been, fuckin' healthy as a fuckin' horse. An' that's _entirely_ because of you." He rapped his knuckles on the side of his skull. "I've taken a lotta' hits, Kitten. Dealt with a lotta' violent shit. You, an' _only_ you, were decent enough to take in the fuckin' mangy stray an' I'm gonna' be forever grateful f' that, okay?"

 

Mox opened his hand, cautiously extending it. After a second, she put her smaller hand in his own. "I knew from the get-go that y' used sex as a bargainin' chip, Kitten. An' a copin' mechanism. Fondlin' me after my match like y' owned my shit already. Fact that ya' were willin' t' let me put my mouth on ya' though, got me curious. Y' said he bit ya' down there. An' ya'  _had_ to have noticed my preferred method of gettin' someone t' let me go. Somethin' about me made ya' feel safer, righ'? What was it?"

 

"You never hurt anyone you shouldn't h-have." Her voice was so quiet, hitching with the aftermath of her crying. "All the matches I saw. Th-there were these girls they w-would send in. And you w-were careful w-with them. I knew I w-would be okay with you."

 

"An' ya'  _still_ okay with me." Jon said firmly. "I ain't never gonna' get pissed off with ya' for not bein' in the mood, un'nerstan'? I'm a goddamn  _grown_ fuckin' man an' my dick still gets hard f' stupid reasons, whether I wanna' bang or not. Prob'ly doesn't help that I get fuckin' boners from painful shit." He shrugged. "Kinda' waitin' for someone t' call me on it durin' a match, honestly. 'Ref! He's got a dangerous weapon!', or somethin'."

 

She giggled weakly at that, the noise soothing Jon more than he cared to admit. "Point here is, jus' because I want somethin', doesn't mean ya' gotta' give it to me. If ya' not in the mood, then that's fuckin' fine with me. Again, I am a grown fuckin' man. If I can't take care of m'self I'm a pretty poor excuse for an adult." Jon leaned back, looking up at her face seriously. "This is a two way street though, Kitten. If  _I'm_ not in the mood, y' gotta' take care of y'self okay?"

 

She smiled down at him, wiping the tears off her cheeks and nodding. "Yeah. Y-yeah, I think I can do that. Thanks for...well for everything, really."

 

"Mox's gotta' take care of his Kitten, righ'?" Mox kissed her knuckles again. "M' gonna' help ya' any way I can, Kitten. I promise."

 

...

 

Some things weren't so easily solved, though.

 

One night Mox woke up out of a deep sleep to her thrashing in the blankets next to him. "Kitten?" he mumbled, reaching an arm over her as some part of his sleepy brain reasoned that it must be the alarm that woke him.

 

She grabbed his arm and shoved it away with such force that his shoulder popped loudly, the sound and flicker of pain startling him fully awake. "Kitten!"  _What the hell?_ She was still fighting with the sheet, making sobbing noises and kicking her legs wildly. "Kitten, shit. Kitten." Mox tried again, rolling onto his side and laying a hand on her shoulder. She screamed " _no!_ " and lashed out at Jon, fists pounding against his chest in a panicked flurry. " _No more!_ "

 

"Whoa Kitten, easy Kitten shh. S' jus' me. Jus' Mox. Ya' 'member Mox, righ'?" His voice reflected a calm he did not feel. Jon wanted to fucking cry, bust into tears like a little baby. God, this love shit  _hurt_ sometimes. 

 

She was still hitting him but she'd slowed down. Like she was giving up. She was crying hard, her chest pitching with the effort. Jon felt like dying. "Oh God Kitten, y' safe here. I promise, s'okay." he said softly, carefully catching her hands and holding them to his chest.

 

"Jus' d-do i' 'lready." she mumbled, "jus' do it n' g-g-get it over w-with."

 

"Kitten please, ya' killin' me here." Moxley felt his lower lip quiver. "S' jus' Mox, Kitten. Jus' ya' street dog. Promise I ain't gonna' hurt ya', Kitten."

 

"That's wha' y'  _say_ that's wha' y'  _always say!_ " She spat the words out against his shoulder and Jon flinched. "Always fuckin' hurts y' lie an' it  _hurts_ always hurts fuckin' promise promise  _promise_ -" Her teeth grazed his skin.

 

"Kitten..." Mox was at a total loss, releasing her hands. He cupped her face gently, pressing his forehead to her own. Her eyes were half-open, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

 

"Don't wan' t' hurt..." she whimpered. "...y' make it hurt, why y' always hav'ta' hurt..."

 

"Shh, no more hurtin', 'member Kitten? It's better now, ain't it? I ain't gonna' hurt ya'. Y' th' bes' thing that's ever happened t' me. Can't hurt ya'. Won't." Mox gritted out, fighting the lump in his throat every step of the way. "M' a good mutt. Ya' made me good, Kitten. I've gotcha'."

 

"Jon, where's Jon need Jon-" she sobbed, pushing away from him. "Where's Mox, where's Moxley?"

 

Mox turned on the bedside lamp and gathered her up in the sheet. She slumped against him, still crying softly for Jon, for Mox. She finally seemed to drift off, all bundled up in the sheets and cradled to his chest.

 

Mox didn't sleep the rest of the night.

 

The sun came up and he watched it rise, watched it turn the fragmented woman in his arms into a sleeping angel. She looked completely at peace. Mox had tried to keep from crying. It wasn't his trauma after all, and sympathy crying did literally _no one_ any good. But he'd been so _fucking_ worried earlier. Seeing her all relaxed now made him teary.

 

He bit his lip hard enough to break the skin, tilting his head back and huffing out a breath in a desperate gamble to control himself. The noise must have woken her up because she murmured something, moving against him. "Sleep okay? Y' had a _hell_ of a nightmare." he said, trying to smile and failing miserably.

 

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Oh no. Are you okay? Shit, did I hurt you?"

 

"Y' threw a few punches. Obviously I've dealt with a little worse n' you." Mox said dismissively, tucking her a little more snugly against him. "Y' were cryin' for me. Thought I was that other guy an' that I was gonna' hurt ya' again." He didn't want to show how badly shaken he had been by the whole event.

 

She " _ohhh_ "ed softly, wrapping her arms around him. "I scared you."

 

"I ain't scared of-"

 

"You were scared. I'm so sorry Mox."

 

Mox was incredulous. "Kitten, ya ' don't get t' apologize f' havin' a fuckin' nightmare. Me bein' scared doesn't really fuckin' matter alrigh'? _You_ were the one cryin' an' screamin'." He fell silent after that, chewing on his lip.

 

She winced. "Screaming?"

 

Mox nodded, tucking his face into her shoulder. She cupped the back of his head and held him tight. They sat there like that for a while, mostly so Moxley could assure himself that she was really okay.

 

He finally pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her mouth. She responded hungrily, willingly. But Mox shook his head, smoothing his hands down her back. "Jus' lemme' hold ya', okay Kitten?"

 

"Okay." She murmured, her own hands resting lightly on his shoulders. "Okay."

 

Mox finally dozed off in her embrace, his forehead tucked against her shoulder. She had started stroking his hair and it lulled him to sleep. After his sleepless night he welcomed the reprieve, snuggling into her arms and sighing contentedly.

 

_Good dog_.

 

He awoke some time after noon, his whole body feeling a little stiff. She was doing something in the kitchen. He could hear dishes being moved around. Mox got up, stretching and yawning loudly. "Kitten?" he called. "Ya' alrigh'?"

 

"I'm just making lunch!" she replied, "Do you want grilled cheese?"

 

_Everything's okay. She's safe._ Mox told himself, straightening out his t-shirt. "Yeah, please?"

 

Most days before that were fine though. Most days were at least decent. Mox only bit the people he was supposed to and she went to and from work with no incidents.

 

Most days were fine.

 

...

 

She stopped touching him almost entirely after that incident, which was incredibly jarring for Mox. Usually she did casual contact, would put a hand on his arm to catch his attention or something. Like when they curled up on the couch. But she stopped that altogether. The most he would get was a peck on the cheek before she would head in to work, or a quick kiss before she rolled to her side of the bed at night.

 

Other than that though, nothing had changed. It was fucking baffling to Jon. She made eye contact, smiled and interacted with him like she always had. Something was wrong and he didn't know _what_ or _how_ or _why_ and it was driving him crazy.

 

_What did I do?_

 

Sami clocked him upside the head, startling Mox enough to make him snap his teeth at the retreating fingers of his friend. " _Christ!_ What?!" he yelled.

 

Sami had the nerve to roll his eyes. "I've been tryin' t' talk to ya' for like ten minutes, asshole! Where's _your_ brain, 'cuz clearly it ain't here!" he grumbled.

 

Mox's irritation quickly deflated, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit Sami, m' sorry. Worryin' 'bout Kitten is all." he apologized quietly.

 

"What, that cocksucker show back up? We needa' break his face, yeah?" Sami asked eagerly, getting to his feet and dusting his pants off. Callihan, to his credit, was usually _more_ than willing to back Mox up in whatever fights he got into, either in or out of the ring.

 

Jon shook his head. "Nothin' that simple, Sami. She's just...she ain't touchin' me anymore. She had a really bad dream the other night. Scared the shit outta' me, as puss as that sounds. She couldn't wake up an' she thought I was that other guy an' she was cryin' an' beggin' f' me." He confessed, staring down at the floor. "Since then she ain't touchin' me. I don't know why, man."

 

"Okay first off, y'know I don't give a shit so why th' fuck are ya' tellin' me this crap. Now, I got the disclaimer outta' the way. So! Maybe she's tired of ya' Mox. Maybe she's scared of somethin' happenin' again if she tries to getcha' t' leave." Callihan shrugged. "Fact is you won't know 'til ya' ask her. I got no answers for ya' man."

 

"I know. I'm all fucked up over this. I _wanna'_ ask. Wanna' talk, see if I can figure it out. I'm jus'...I think I'm in pretty deep here Callihan." Moxley said bleakly. He sat down on the bed and raked his fingers through his hair. "She's th' bes' thing that's ever happened t' me an' I don't wanna' lose her. But I _ain't_ gonna' be like...I can't. Shit, it makes me sick to my stomach sometimes Sami."

 

"I know man. I remember. Ya' kinda' laid into the guy as is." Sami pointed out, grinning. "Fuckin' fists-a-flyin' motherfucker."

 

"I'll talk t' her tonight. See if I can figure this out. Gotta' nut up or shut up I guess." Mox stood, a finger tapping at his collar. "Time t' face the music. Whatever the fuck that means."

 

"She's good for ya' man, I've noticed." Callihan said after a few moments of silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "You...you do ya' best talkin' under pressure anyhow."

 

Mox rumpled his friend's hair fondly. "Betcha' say that to _all_ ya' tag-team partners."

 

...

 

"Please, please tell me what I did wrong." Mox begged. He had planned on being authoritative about this, getting as far as after dinner before his stupid fucking heart made him speak up. He didn't really care all that much about not looking like a badass this one time, to be honest. This _hurt_. And he wanted to know _why_.

 

_At least give me a good reason to be fucked up_.

 

She looked up from where she'd been folding clothes, seeming startled by his voice. "What do you mean?" The question hung in the air between them. She sounded legitimately confused.

 

Mox cleared his throat. "Ya' been actin' strange, Kitten. I dunno' what I did, but I'm fuckin' sorry, m' so fuckin' sorry. I'll do anythin' Kitten, can leave if ya' don't want me around anymore." The painful catch of his breath after he said that made him want to take it back. He didn't _want_ to leave, who would? He was warm and fed and safe and _in love dammit I'm in love, I thought love wasn't supposed to hurt_.

 

"You didn't do anything wrong, Mox. I'm sorry if how I was dealing with things upset you." She was too calm. Jon tensed, waiting for the 'but' that never came.

 

Apparently that was it. That was all he was getting. "Dammit Kitten, why don't you wanna' touch me anymore?" he finally asked, his fingers digging into his knees as he leaned forward on the couch. "Did it take ya' this long t' realize I'm fuckin' trash? I know I'm worth literally fuckin' nothin' if I'm not bustin' a skull or rippin' someone's ear off, but ya' could at least have the fuckin' decency to not string me along." he said bluntly. "Thought I was ya' mutt. What happened? Y' wish ya' could bring me back to the shelter?" The whole time he spoke he tried to keep his voice soft, decent. They were both adults. He wasn't going to yell or pitch a damn tantrum.

 

"Oh no, oh God no Mox..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I should have known that this would hurt you."

 

_Huh?_

 

"I've been scared about how attached I am to you, and I think you are to me as well. But I know that...well, sometimes things aren't easy for me. You deal with enough bad stuff in your fights, Mox. You shouldn't have to worry about me too." she reasoned, staring at her lap. "I've been trying to get you to understand that. Figured once you did, you would leave. I was just selfish and trying to make it easier on me by cutting down on the touching."

 

A flicker of hope split the black cloud that had been following Mox for the past week. "Kitten I don't give a shit. If somethin' is wrong, _tell me_. Don't try n' push me away."

 

"You shouldn't have to worry about-"

 

" _I'll_ be the judge of what I worry about."

 

"It's not right that you have a girlfriend who gets panicky when you touch her!" she snapped, like she was fed up.

 

"S' not right that ya' have a boyfriend who's more fucked-up mutt than fuckin' man!" Mox retorted, yanking on his collar to illustrate his point. "If anyone's gonna' understand damage, s' gonna' be me Kitten. That's why ya' ain't been touchin' me? T' try an' wean me offa' ya'? It isn't workin'. Ya' wanna' know why?"

 

"Oh sure, fine." she grumbled. "Why? Why didn't my master plan work, huh Mox?"

 

"Because I'm fuckin' hopeless when it comes t' you." All the fight had gone out of him, leaving him vulnerable. She needed him this way though, and that made it a little less scary. "I look at you an' it's all fuckin', shit, what could I have possibly fuckin' done t' deserve  _ her? _ I know ya' think you're all busted up an' broken, but so the fuck what Kitten? I'm pretty fuckin' fucked myself. I never been this good before, this decent. You've done so much for me."

 

"Stop it." Her arms wrapped around him and Mox couldn't help his shudder, the way he plastered his body to hers. "You're brave and strong, Mox. I'm just...I'm me and there's not a whole lot I can do about it." Her fingers looped through the D ring on his collar. "I didn't want to believe that you felt for me like how I feel for you. Didn't want to delude myself, you know?"

 

"An' now? D'ya believe me?" Mox asked worriedly, letting her pull him to his feet by his collar.

 

"I might." she teased, making him grin in relief and tug her close.

 

"I missed ya', Kitten. Missed ya' bein' near me." he confessed, pressing a gentle line of kisses down her neck. "Missed this."

 

"Stop missing me and start getting reacquainted then." she ordered, grabbing his hand and half-dragging him down the hallway. Mox laughed, scooping her up and bumping the door open with his shoulder.

 

"I like the sound of that."

 

She yanked off her shirt quickly once he put her down, pressing a kiss to his mouth and then unbuttoning her pants. "You're so pretty." Mox managed to say, making her huff out a breath and blush.

 

"I'd  _ feel _ prettier if you were naked too." she pointed out. 

 

Mox slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders and quickly unhooked the back, yanking it off her. " _ God _ I missed you." he groaned, thumbing roughly over one of her breasts and making her yelp and giggle. "Missed touchin' ya'." He punctuated the statement with a bruising kiss, leaving the both of them panting for breath. "Which drawer?" he asked. 

 

Her brow furrowed in confusion for a second, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Yeah, yup. Condoms. Third. Uh, middle." Mox pulled open the bottom drawer of the bedside table before she was done speaking. His eyes widened. "No wait, not that drawer!" she said in a panic.

 

It was too late though, Jon had seen what was inside. And while it wasn't the condoms he'd been seeking, it certainly piqued his interest. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly gone dry.

 

" _Naughty_ Kitten."

 

She covered her face with her hands, making a distressed sound.

 

The toy was slightly thinner and shorter than his cock, and a soft shade of blue. Mox smirked, picking it up and running a hand over the ribbed surface. "So this is ya' Ol' Faithful, huh Kitten? Or should I say, 'True Blue', heh."

 

"Mox please, I'm so fucking embarrassed." she mumbled through her fingers. "I'll get rid of it. I'm sorry."

 

"Absofuckin'lutely not." Jon said firmly, the plan coming together in his head. "I wanna' see how well it works. Shit, f' it's gonna' stick around I'll make it pay rent."

 

"Jon..."

 

"Kitten. I'm not gonna' pressure you into doin' anything ya' don't wanna' do. Just know that I find stuff like this _ridiculously_ fuckin' attractive. I like that ya' can take care of y'self." Mox's hands were shaking and he was pretty sure he'd never been this turned on in his _life_. He opened the middle drawer. "Gets me fuckin' riled, to be honest."

 

She huffed out a breath, some of the tension leaking from her frame as she seemed to mull it over. "It isn't that I don't want _you_ to fuck me." she finally said hesitantly. "I don't want to scare you. What happens if you're going at it and all of a sudden I'm crying and shoving you away? Like what happened the other day? I don't want you to think it's your fault or anything, Mox."

 

"Like I said, Kitten. If you don't want, it ain't happenin'. I'm just givin' ya' my two cents in case ya' still embarrassed or nervous, or holdin' back because ya' think I'll think it's 'weird'." He poked her leg with the toy, making her giggle. "Can I play with ya', Kitten? Promise I'll play nice. Shit, I'll share f' ya' want."

 

"Oh God, you're ridiculous." she laughed. "You're absolutely ridiculous. Alright, okay. Let's do this."

 

"Hop up here, straddle my leg." Jon directed, propping himself against the headboard. "I got an idea."

 

She obeyed, hovering on her knees over his thigh and looking at him curiously with her hands resting on his shoulders. Mox swallowed hard, ripping open a condom with his teeth and rolling it down over the toy. "S' lubricated. Makes the slide easier." he said by way of explanation when she raised an eyebrow at him.

 

"I never had any issues before."

 

Jon bit back a moan at _that_ mental image, filing it away for later. Here and now was _more_ than enough. He slipped the toy against her pussy and she whimpered, making Mox grunt, "Greedy Kitten. This thing can't even be _close_ t' a good substitute for me."

 

She shook her head, arching her back and rubbing herself against his thigh. Jon allowed her the relief for a minute or two, teasing the toy across her entrance while she all but humped his leg. "What a naughty thing y' are." he finally said raggedly, wrapping an arm around her waist and slowly lowering her down onto her toy. He still had her straddling his thigh and when she had the flared base pressed flush to her entrance she whimpered, rocking against him. Her own thigh was hot against his groin and his cock strained in his jeans. "How's it feel, Kitten? S' it good?" Mox crooned, "Fillin' ya' up like I do?"

 

She shook her head, rolling her hips over his leg and stuttering out, "G-good, but not you."

 

Mox urged her to move faster, baring his teeth in a satisfied grin when she started playing with her breasts without him having to say anything. "This is how ya' get off when I'm not around, huh?" he asked, "or when ya' can't handle someone touchin' ya' but y' need t' unwind?"

 

She whined out a breath against his neck and he took that as a yes. "Well shit, this is prob'ly the hottest thing I've ever done so anytime y' need me for a toy brace, Mox is ya' fuckin' _guy_ Kitten. I'm a lot more solid than a couple pillows. Don't slide aroun' as much either. Letcha' get that fuckin' _good_ angle," he growled, "so ya' can bang out a quickie an' loosen up a little before y' let me have fun. If of course, ya' want me to. I'm fine with mutual masturbation, I don't give a flyin' fuck. Nothin' hotter than havin' a beautiful girl show ya' how she needs it for next time."

 

"Jesus Christ Jon-" she gasped.

 

"I'm kinda' diggin' this Kitten, not gonna' lie." Mox palmed over the front of his jeans, groaning. "Y' feel how hard I am against ya'? Keep rubbin' me an' I wonder if I'll come in my jeans." The base of the toy shifted back and forth quicker across his thigh. "Kitten, fuck, fuck fuck-" he swore. "Look at ya' just fuckin' yourself, gettin' off all dirty like this. Can I touch myself? While y' do that? Is it okay?"

 

Her hand left his shoulder momentarily to fight with his zipper. She was panting now, whole body in continuous motion as she rocked against him. Jon helped her undo his fly, his hips bucking when she ran her fingers over his cock. She moaned, shuddering when he pressed his thigh up against her. "What's wrong, huh Kitten? Gonna' come? Gonna' come all over my leg, all over y' toy?" Jon goaded her on, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and squeezing lightly. He was legitimately worried he might come in his pants if he didn't slow down a little. "Look, look at what ya' did t' me." he continued quietly.

 

She glanced down and then full-on stared, watching as Jon lazily stroked himself. "I want you." she finally said in a small voice, hips still stuttering over his thigh.

 

"What's that?" he asked with a grin, leaning in when she pulled on his collar. "Didn't catch whatcha' said, Kitten."

 

She graced him with a kiss that left him slack-jawed and then she came, whimpering " _I want you_ " into his ear and shuddering against him. Jon echoed her with a groan, hastily shimmying his jeans down enough to give his cock breathing room. "You're about t' get me, _trust_ me." he growled, lifting her outside leg and carefully coaxing her toy out of her still-clenching pussy. "Kitten gets what she fuckin' wants around here, okay?"

 

She shakily moved her legs to the outside of his hips, rubbing her slit over the head of his cock while Jon fought to get the second condom wrapper open. "Please c'mon Jon please-" she begged, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

 

He finally got the fucking thing out and rolled it down over his cock. Normally she liked it when he teased himself while he did it, all slow and careful. But Mox knew he was a little low on time.

 

Mox eased her down, cupping her face and touching his forehead to hers. "Kitten ain't nobody or nothin' else on this planet gonna' fuck ya' like I fuck ya', because ain't nobody or nothin' on this planet fuckin' loves ya' like I do." he rambled. "It's okay if you don't love me or anythin' like that, I just want ya' to know I've got you an' I'm gonna' keep ya' safe from here on out, okay Kitten?"

 

Mox exhaled hard, looking down at where their bodies joined. His hands fell to her hips, bracing her up on either side of her torso as he watched his cock slide in and out of her, slow and tender and everything that Mox wasn't but for her he would, he _would_.

 

_Love doesn't need to hurt. She makes it not hurt. God, I hope she knows._

 

"I love you so much, I love you, I love you." she gasped, making him snap his attention up to her face. She looked like she was in ecstasy, skin flushed and head thrown back while he made love to her. "Love you Jon, love you so so much..."

 

Mox's heart thundered in his chest and he was pretty sure he was going to cry. He looked back down quickly, chewing on his lip. She was so tight, so warm, and everything just felt so _fucking_ good. It was like the rush of getting the first punch in during a fight, or how he felt looking at her on those golden mornings. Just _good_ and _right_.

 

"Gonna' come again." she choked out, pulling his collar and making him growl.

 

"Damn fuckin'  _right_ you are." Jon snarled, gripping her hips and grinding her down onto him. "Gonna' come all over me? Soak my cock Kitten.  _Do it_ ." he demanded, knowing that she usually loved that one last push.

 

" _Oh-!_ " she cried, her arms falling limp at her sides as she came undone. Jon groaned at the feel of her, his own hands going slack on her hips. She slumped against him, breathing fast and moaning softly.

 

"Jesus _fuckin'_ Christ Kitten, I-" he began.  She pressed her face against his neck, biting down _hard_ and Mox came, he came without even planning to. " _Shit!_ " he gasped, eyes wide. She looked up at him, watching him come with half-lidded, hungry eyes.

 

"You think you're so smart." she panted, grinning while he shuddered underneath her. Mox was still surprised that he was even coming. He'd thought for  _sure_ he was good for a few more. "I got you figured out, mutt." 

 

"I guess you f-fuckin' do, Jesus fuck." he coughed, "Not Kitten anymore, I guess. More like a fuckin' wolverine."

 

"I didn't hurt you, right?" she asked worriedly, thumbing clumsily over the spot she'd bitten and then making a startled noise when his cock jumped inside her. "Oh...oh that's kind of nice." she admitted.

 

"Yeah? Guess you haven't got this mutt all figured out after all." Jon said smugly, tugging her chin down for a kiss. "Ol' Mox has more than one trick, Kitten."

 

After they got untangled and cleaned up, she straightened out the blankets just the way he liked them. Mox raised an eyebrow at her antics. "I'm still apologizing, okay? I feel awful that I tried to push you away instead of talking to you about things." she mumbled uncomfortably, twiddling her fingers.

 

"Ya' logic is a little wacky, Kitten. But I forgive ya'. It's done with. Now come here an' fuckin' snuggle with me. I need the reassurance." Mox said plainly, waiting until she slid under the blankets before curling up against her with a contented sigh. "Next time though, please talk ta' me, okay? Save some trouble." he yawned.

 

She flung an arm over his ribs, murmuring, "Okay, mutt."

 

“Good Kitten.” he whispered as he drifted off.

 

_Good Kitten_ .

 


	6. Thunder And Lightning

The fight was what he lived for. The snap and snarl, the beating and breaking and getting back up. The rasp of the chain against the mat, the too-tight too-close, the blood and sweat.

 

Mox _lived_ for it. Some deep dark little part of him craved it, an outlet for the violence that had been done to him when he was small and scared. Jon hated, oh he _hated_ with a passion the way he _still_ sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and panting for breath with his dad's name sour in his mouth.

 

_Violence breeds violence_ , Mox's mom had said bitterly the first time he came home with his knuckles scraped up. Jon had been terrified, the fight not even really a fight so much as him swinging his fists wildly at the larger boy who had tried to stuff him into a locker. Mox had knocked him onto his back and then...

 

Nothing was there except a blur, mental static. Jon had just slammed the kid's head with the locker door over and over, screaming wordlessly until the other boy had stopped struggling. When they called his mother, she just laughed and hung up. Jon had jumped out the window of the principal's office and fled. The day had been gray to begin with and as he ran home the sky opened up, dumping torrents of rain and rumbling threateningly with thunder overhead. Mox didn't recall if he actually cried or if his face was just wet.

 

He ended up hiding in the crawlspace of an abandoned house, his hands over his ears and his knees pulled up against his chest. He remembered crying _then_ , just bawling his eyes out as the dirt beneath him slowly sludged into mud from the pouring rain. He had always been leery of thunderstorms, and having the thick of it raging over him while he was in turmoil over what he'd done hadn't helped his fear one bit.

 

His dad whipped the piss out of him for that fight, for getting himself expelled, “ _after I worked this hard so you could_ _ **go**_ _to school like I never did, you ungrateful shit!_ ” Jon never fought back against his father, and that was probably his biggest regret to date. Taking beatings that he didn't deserve and keeping his mouth shut.

 

_So I could grow up into a guy that fights for a living. A guy that 'had a lot of potential'. A guy that moms look at on the bus and tell their kids that's what they'll be like if they don't stay in school. Worst part is, they're right._

 

Mox shook his head and raised his fists, Callihan swatting him encouragingly on the shoulder. “You got this, man! Kick his ass!”

 

_I've got this, I've got this. I'm strong and I've got this_ .

 

...

 

He was irritated the next morning when Kitten insisted on paying for breakfast, jokingly telling him “ _your money's no good here, Mox!_ ” He knew he shouldn't be upset. She was nice, she did nice stuff all the _time_. But _why_ did she have to be nice _today_. Jon's body fucking _hurt_ from the blows he'd taken last night; he kind of just wanted to curl up and sleep for about ninety years. It was either the beating or maybe there was some weather moving in. Regardless, ninety years of napping. Call him Mox Van Winkle.

 

He knew he was acting like a child. They didn't get days off  _together_ that often. Usually he got to spend the morning of her days off with her before heading in to train and deal with whatever shitshow he'd be put through that night. So having a  _whole_ day with her to himself should have been amazing. But he was just sore and fucking grumpy and not in the mood and  _just let me pay for breakfast, damn it, I should be able to do_ _**that** _ _ much! _

 

After breakfast she wanted to 'see the foliage'. So now here they were, walking along a path in the local park like a couple of goddamn _tourists_. Jon had his hands shoved into his pockets, doing his best to pretend he was looking at the leaves instead of wishing desperately that she would just grab his hand and tell him to stop being such a little shit. Sometimes it was hard to snap himself out of a funk. Callihan usually managed well with a punch to the back of the head.

 

The minutes ticked by and she kept her hands to herself, making Mox feel wildly disappointed (but also relieved because he was a _little_ scared of her walloping him).

 

“I should be able to take ya' out.” he griped, finally breaking the silence. “Take ya' to fancy places an' shit like that. M' sorry.”

 

“Jon, why would I care about that? Fancy stuff makes me uncomfortable, anyway. I'm sure it does the same for you. Don't worry about it.” she huffed, rummaging around in the small bag she always carried with her. She sounded annoyed. That was fine. He definitely deserved it.

 

_God, I'm an asshole._

 

Mox crushed the crunchy leaves underfoot with a little more vigor than necessary, all but stomping down the path. He heard her sigh, though it sounded more relieved than angry. “What?” he grunted, turning around.

 

“I found my brush!” she said happily, waving a small plastic...thing. It didn't _look_ like a brush, it looked more like a torture device. A cylinder with pins all over it. Mox raised an eyebrow. “I thought I lost it because I couldn't find it earlier today. I turned the bathroom inside out looking for it. But it was just in my bag the whole time!” Her smile lit her face up. She looked like fucking _perfection_ , framed by all the colorful leaves and...

 

And shit, he _really_ wanted to kiss her. _I_ _don't deserve to_. But hell if he didn't want to, more than _anything_.

 

He settled for shooting her a half-smile and shrug. “Glad ya' found it then, Kitten.”

 

“Hey.” Her fingers closed around his hand finally, _finally_. Mox swallowed hard as her thumb rubbed across the scars on the back of his hand. “You've been out of sorts the whole morning. Is it because I paid for breakfast?”

 

_YES!_ “No.” _I should be able to buy_ _ **you**_ _breakfast!_ “I took a pretty hard whack from Vortekz last night, back of my neck. Well shit, ya' saw it happen.” Jon made it up on the spot, and he cringed inwardly when she looked distraught.

 

“I don't remember seeing...I thought you said Scotty was one of the more careful guys!” she said worriedly.

 

“I'm _okay_ Kitten, just a little off. The uh. My ear tubes. Th' fluid in ‘em.” Jon knew he was digging himself in deeper. “My equilateral. Stuff.”

 

“Equilibrium?” she supplied helpfully.

 

“Yeah, that. Y'know, take a fall or somethin' an' ya' fuzzy for a while.” Mox crammed his free hand back into his pocket.

 

“Are you sure? We can make you a doctor's appoint-”

 

“ _Hell_ no, Kitten. No way no how.” Mox growled. “Pokin' an' proddin' me, askin' about all my scars n' shit. Fuck _that_.”

 

“I'm sorry, Mox.” she mumbled after several uncomfortable seconds of silence. Oh God, _there_ was the guilt kicking in.

 

“Shit, I'm surprised _I_ remember it happenin'. Don't worry about it, Kitten.” Jon tried for a full smile this time. Thought he did pretty well, all things considered. “I'm jus' bein' a sore-ass spoilsport. We came out here for the fuckin' leaves, right? D'ya know the different ones?”

 

She still looked worried, but eventually he got her to talk about how sugar maples went through a whole cycle of colors ( _green and yellow then orange and red_ ), letting her ramble and just...basking in her voice and how animated she got. Whenever they went for walks she looped her arm through the crook of his elbow so she could still use both hands to gesture.

 

God he was such a fucking _sap_ , even her hands were beautiful to him. _Christ_ , he had it bad.

 

Jon caught her hand mid-wave and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Love listenin' t' ya' talk,” he confessed. “Makes me remember that you're real, y'know?”

 

That was apparently the _wrong_ thing to say, because she was back to looking worried. “Jon, are you _sure_ you're okay?”

 

“You treat me good. It's still kinda' weird, is all. I don't wanna' get used to it.” Jon shrugged again, pointing to a tree at random. “What's that one called? An' why's it got vines n' leaves comin' off the sides of it?”

 

“That's a red maple but what you're referring to is the _poison ivy_ , Jon.” She folded her arms, standing in the middle of the path. “You can't distract me that easy.”

 

“Wanna' bet? What happens if I eat a leaf off that shit? Dare me. I'll do it.” Mox reached a hand towards the shiny red leaves, wiggling his fingers threateningly.

 

“Mox, _no_.”

 

“Uh-oh, I'm gonna' touch it! Somebody stop me!”

 

She started laughing even as she pulled him back a safe distance from the tree. “You're ridiculous! You'd get poison ivy all down the inside of your mouth and throat, you doofus.”

 

“Might finally give ya' some peace an' quiet, Kitten.” Jon pointed out, making her giggles die off.

 

“Alright, obviously you don't want to talk about...you saying stuff to me that breaks my heart a little bit. Which is perfectly fine. But when you _do_ want to talk about it, I want to be here to listen, okay?” she said quietly, tugging him closer and wrapping one of her arms around the small of his back.

 

“Here's hopin' I never take ya' up on that offer.” Mox mumbled under his breath, kissing the top of her head as they continued their walk.

 

...

 

“ _Please, leave me alone!_ ” _She was begging, crying. His old man stood over her, one of his huge hands closed around her arm. Bruises flowered on her skin, dream-rapid and terrifying. Mox went to move but he was tied to a chair. No wait, it was the collar around his neck. The chain disappeared through the floorboards, holding him fast. The chair was gone._

 

“ _This yours, son?_ ” _His dad shook her bodily at him, like she weighed nothing. She screamed in pain, clawing at his hand on her arm. Mox opened his mouth and his voice was gone._ “ _Mine now, I guess. You always were a little bitch, weren't you? Jus' taking your licks and crawling back to your room like a fuckin'_ _ **dog**_ _._ ”

 

_It was his mom now, oh God why was it his mom. Her fingers were like talons, digging into Kitten's shoulder._ “ _Look at him, sweetheart. Look at my failure of a son._ ” _Her head wouldn't stop jerking around oddly. Kitten was silent and limp in her grip, staring at Jon with dead eyes._ “ _He can't keep you safe. Couldn't keep himself safe. He'll let you down. And when he does-_ ”

 

“ _ **Stop!**_ ” _Jon yelled. She couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear him. He knew he was saying it over and over, why couldn't he hear it over the ringing in his ears_ \--

 

He jolted awake, his chest heaving and hands fisted in the blankets. Normally he was freezing but now he just felt hot and _filthy_ , tearing at the covers in a frantic bid to escape. He stalked into the kitchen, pacing in the tiny space between the fridge and counter. It was barely four steps but he didn't want to risk waking her by pacing in the hallway.

 

Jon must have paced for half an hour, his mind a tangled mess. _It's alright, you're safe here. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt her._ He felt queasy as he thought back on the nightmare. Her fucking screaming, pleading with his old man like his mom used to. _I am not him. I am_ _ **good**_ _. She said I'm good. She loves me. I love her. I'm good. I can keep her safe. I'm good._ Mox sank to the floor, his back to the fridge. He groaned softly and knocked his head into the fridge, making it rattle.

 

“What am I gonna' fuckin' do?” he asked the dark kitchen. “I'm gonna' fuck up. I'm gonna' fuck up an' snap again an' hurt someone I shouldn't.” The sound of rain brought him out of his staring contest with his knees and he squinted in the dark, trying to figure out why it was so loud all of a sudden.

 

The window over the sink had slid open at some point, the top ajar by about six inches. Enough for the rain to dribble in. Mox huffed, getting to his feet. There was a low rumble and then, a bolt of lightning lit the kitchen like daylight. Mox jumped backwards in horror because _what was_ _ **that**_ _, was that someone hiding under the table?!_ Stupidly, he turned to slam the window up and lock it, then he whirled back around. Dark, obviously it was going to be dark.  Stupid, _stupid Mox!_

 

“J-jus' my mind playin' tricks.” he managed to say, feeling like his heart was trying to punch through his ribcage. “Jus' the lightnin' fuckin' with m-”

 

A loud crack of thunder interrupted his attempt to calm himself down, followed by another brilliant flash of lightning. _There_ again! In the doorway this time, a figure! Mox was a little ashamed of the desperate noise he made, because _whoever_ that was, they were between him and the bedroom and--

 

_Oh God, Kitten_ _. _

 

Shit, not if _Mox_ had anything to say about it! He lunged for the doorway but made contact with nothing. The guy must have realized he'd been spotted and headed down the hall. Jon would have heard the apartment door if he'd left. _It's got to be her ex, a random break-in is too fucking convenient_ , Mox thought frantically as he ran down the hallway. “I'm gonna' rip you in _half!_ ” he yelled, shoving the bedroom door open the rest of the way and flipping on the light.

 

“Whuh? Mox, what...” Kitten mumbled, rolling over. The room was empty except for her. Mox ran to the closet, flinging it open. Nothing. Some clothes and boxes. No dastardly villain waiting to jump out at him, fists flying.

 

“Are you fuck-” The light overhead flickered and went out, accompanied by the loudest clap of thunder yet. Mox yelped, covering his ears. “ _Shit!_ ”

 

“Jon?” Kitten was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes. “S' just some rain, Jon.”

 

The window rattled with the volume of the next roll of thunder, and the room blazed with blue-white light. Jon was pretty sure he screamed at that point. He slammed his eyes closed, vaguely aware that he was slumped against the wall. He slid down to his knees, brain in a frenzied loop of _there's someone in here keep her safe there's no one here I saw someone_...

 

Her arms were around him, her hand stroking through his hair. “Oh, Jon.” she said, sounding helpless. “Jon, I'm so sorry. You're safe Jon, you're safe.”

 

Mox realized he was fucking  _sobbing_ , to the point where it made breathing difficult. He choked in a lungful of air, stunned by how  _hard_ he was crying. His whole body was shaking and yet he somehow managed to flinch even harder at another crash of thunder. “Thought-saw someone i-in th' k-k-kitchen.” he gasped out, hiding his face in her shoulder so he wouldn't have to see the lightning. “H-had a n-n-nightm-mare an' I th-thought somebody w-w-was gonna'-”

 

“Shh, you're alright. It's just a storm. It can't hurt you in here.” she murmured, rocking him gently back and forth. “Lightning and your imagination, huh?”

 

“Thought it w-was ya' ex.” Moxley abruptly felt like an idiot. He'd been standing to the side of the window when the lightning flashed the first time. His shadow must have spooked him, and then when he stood in _front_ of the window... “I'm a f-f-fuckin' pussy.” he groaned, rubbing his eyes and cringing at another rumble of thunder.

 

“ _No_ , you're scared of thunderstorms. Lots of people are.” she said practically. “However, I can't fistfight a thunderstorm. I would if I could though. Don't know if that makes you feel any better, but it's my only offer.”

 

Jon released a weak chuckle, letting her drag him even closer. Her fingers framed his throat above his collar. “I b-bet y' would too, if y' thought it'd h-help.” He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “J-Jesus Christ.”

 

“Come to bed, Mox. I'll keep you safe.” Her voice came out as a sleepy purr, her body pressed flush against his and warm, so fucking warm. “Let me distract you.”

 

Mox was powerless to resist when she grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet. He stumbled behind her to the bed. She pushed him onto his back and then lightning flashed, making him close his eyes tight. He groaned when he felt her fingers run down the inside of his thigh. A gentle nip there made him open his eyes again, startled. “Kitten?”

 

“Shh, you're mine. I've got you.” she reassured him, slowly pulling down his boxers and placing an open-mouthed kiss on the head of his quickly-waking cock. “I've got you. Kitten's got her mutt.”

 

The variation on the term he used so often with her made Mox smile in the dark. “You sure fuckin' do, Kitten.”

 

“I love you.” she murmured, her fingers light on his cock. Mox moaned through his teeth, still startled when she wrapped her mouth around him. He shuddered when she swallowed, tongue and lips sliding smoothly along his dick. She whimpered, and Jon felt the press of her breasts on his balls and the underside of his cock as she crept a little higher, hiking her sleeping shirt up in the process.

 

One of her hands was busily working the base of his dick, the other one...Jon could easily guess the location of it, judging by her noises. She was moving gently against him. Jon forgot to flinch at the lightning, watching instead her breasts cradling his sac, her tongue slipping teasingly along the underside of him. He grunted, tugging on her arm and bringing her hand up to his mouth so he could lick her fingers. She squirmed when he groaned loudly, pulling her mouth off his cock.

 

“You like that? Want a better taste?” she offered, bold as you please. Her other hand kept stroking him.

 

Jon nodded yes, not trusting his voice. Lightning lit up the smirk on her face, lit up how hungry she looked. She looked like  _trouble_ , she looked like  _sex_ , she looked like  _his_ . “I love you.” he rasped as she got into position over him. She made a soft noise, a gentle noise when he buried his face in her pussy. He flattened his tongue and licked her firmly, greedily. Her back arched and she stopped stroking his cock, a shiver rippling through her body. 

 

Mox spread her open and traced a 'J' over her clit with his tongue.  _Slowly_ , so fucking slowly. He could practically  _feel_ the way she ached, his cock throbbing in her lax grip. 'O' came next, one of his fingers easing into her while he circled his tongue over and over.

 

“God-” she gasped. “Oh _God_ , Mox...”

 

'N' was sharp, a quick zigzag of his tongue and she seemed to remember she had a job to do. Her mouth engulfed his cock in warmth, and Mox cried out against her cunt when she deep-throated him. She made a choking noise, pulling back and working the base of his cock with her hand before doing it again. She was clearly trying to kill him, keeping up an erratic tempo that soon had him groaning under her.

 

Jon liked to think he gave as good as he got, getting a few  _great_ hip bucks out of her and resorting to placing messy kisses on her clit and curling two fingers inside her as deep as he could get them. She started rocking back against his fingers and mouth, moaning and hanging her head while she stroked his dick. 

 

The bite to his thigh, an actual  _bite_ , with  _teeth_ , caught Mox off-guard and he gasped. Then, he made a noise that was downright embarrassing when she bit him again, this time on his hip. She laved the spot with her tongue and bit down harder, making him writhe under her. He knew she was drawing blood, he could feel her teeth breaking the skin. He knew it, he knew it and he  _wanted_ it.

 

“God, yes, _fuck_ Kitten.” he moaned. He knew what he sounded like (an absolute fucking _slut_ ) but he couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck. “Fuck me _up_ , Kitten, fuck up ya' mutt. Make 'im come all over ya' face, get 'im off, make 'im feel good.” he rambled, pleaded, his free hand tightening into a stranglehold on his collar. “ _O-oh_ fuck, Kitten, m' such a bad mutt, ya' treat me so good even when m' bad.” 

 

“Mox-” Her voice whispered across his skin and then she was coming, her teeth bearing down deliciously hard on his hip. He felt her spasm around his fingers and Jon shoved his hips up desperately, wrapping his hand around her relaxed one and jerking himself off.

 

“Watch ya' face.” he gasped. All she did was open her mouth, laying his cock on her tongue as best as she could. “Kitten, I-”

 

“Shh, s'okay.” she interrupted, urging him on with her own hand. “C'mon Mox, want you to come. Don't you want to come? Your Kitten wants you to come.”

 

“ _Kitten_ , sweet fuck-” Jon barely managed to say, his cock aching and hips thrusting up against nothing. Her thumb slid firmly to the bite on his hip and it was like flicking a switch, his orgasm finally washing over him. He sobbed out a breath when she swallowed and then tongued across the head of his cock. “Jesus, Jesus fuckin' Christ.” he groaned, laughing breathlessly when she collapsed beside him. 

 

The overhead light suddenly flicked back on. She squeaked in surprise, covering her eyes and fumbling for the sheet to cover herself while Jon squinted up at the damn thing. “Mother of fuck. Forgot I turned that shit on.” he grunted, rolling onto his stomach. “Guess that means th' storm's over, huh?”

 

“I'm blind!”

 

“Oh stop bein' so fuckin' _dramatic_ , I'm turnin' it off in a minute. Gotta' let my eyes adjust.” 

 

She continued wiggling in the blankets, her eyes still closed. Jon smirked, reaching out a hand and grabbing her breast. “Ah, nice.” he sighed in contentment, tweaking her nipple before lazily getting to his feet.

 

She swatted him on the ass as he walked to the light switch. “ _That's_ the thanks I get for helping you out? Some boyfriend you are!”

 

“I dunno' Kitten, ya' weren't complainin' when I was brandin' my name on ya' soft bits.” Jon pointed out, turning off the light and stretching. The storm had calmed, rain quietly beating against the window pane. “But thank you. For uh. Y'know.” he continued awkwardly, running a finger over his hip and grinning when he felt a dribble of blood. “ _Indulgin'_ me, I guess I could say. You're a fuckin' trooper, Kitten.”

 

“I wasn't being serious Mox, I want you to be okay.” she replied quietly, “I want to help, like how you helped me. Come back over here, I want to hold you.”

 

Once he was comfortably ensconced in sheet and blankets again she wrapped herself around him, whispering  _I love you_ into his hair over and over. Mox mumbled it back a few times, but soon lost track as he slipped off into a dream. The echoes of his parents seemed so far away there, like they themselves were a dream. Everything was warm and safe and good, her soft form pressed against his side. Bathed in the light of another beautiful sunrise.

 

He caressed her face and she smiled sleepily up at him, kissed him. And Jon realized it wasn't a dream at all, just his next morning waking up beside her.

 

_Good Kitten._

 


	7. Hands Don't Hurt

Her birthday was in December, just like his. Mox planned everything out over the course of November. Granted, he couldn’t actually remember what _day_ in December, but after asking (and forgetting) three different times, he figured he would just wing it. She probably wouldn’t mind. Too many hits to the head. He wasn't good with dates and times. She knew it.

 

At least her work schedule rarely changed. Except for when they asked her to stay late, of course. That gave him the luxury of being able to freely plan things, without worrying that she’d catch on. Mox managed to get thrown a few singles matches for spare money, daydreaming about what he would get her while he took the extra beatings and meted out punishment in turn. A lot of the CZW guys had traveled back home for the holidays, so their singles roster was looking a little patchy.

 

Moxley (despite the fact that he knew he would probably regret it) enlisted the help of Callihan when he finally went shopping. Sami, the _sadist_ that he was, only agreed to come along if he got a picture with the mall Santa.

 

Mox was used to the looks he and Sami got from people when they wandered around. He’d gotten pretty good at ignoring them, occasionally going in the opposite direction or snapping his teeth at whoever was staring at him. He hadn’t done that in ages though. Not since Kitten.

 

_Toothless mutt now, I guess_.

 

Jon tugged at the threadbare scarf around his neck, pulling it aside to fidget with his collar while he leafed through the battered notebook that held his gift ideas. Beside him, Callihan grunted, “Dunno’ why ya’ wear that shit when you ain’t even in the ring.”

 

“It’s not jus’ for fightin’, Sami.” Mox tried to explain. “S’ ownership, y’know?”

 

Sami waved him off. “I don’t need t’ know ya’ kinks, fucker.” A woman with a small child in her arms huffed loudly, making Callihan look up and then flash her a shit-eating grin. “Whups, sorry Mox, didn’t realize we had company.” He bowed so deep he almost fell over. “Pardoneeze me, mon cherry.” Sami carried on with a cartoonishly thick French accent, making Mox puff his cheeks out in an attempt to keep from laughing as the woman stormed off.

 

He tried to fix Sami with a disapproving, paternal look, but all Callihan did was wiggle his eyebrows and Jon was gone, snorting out a chuckle. “Ya’ a real charmer Sami. Ten outta’ ten.” He grinned at his friend, glad for his company. Granted, Callihan would probably end up getting them tossed out of the mall with his antics. For the time being though, they were on their Best Behavior.

 

...

 

Mox tended to ignore his own birthday. There was no damn point. He was nothing to celebrate, that’s for sure. Not to mention that the memories he had of his birthday weren't that good to begin with.

 

He’d actually totally forgotten about the fact that it _was_ his birthday at all. Sami reminded him with a quick “Hap’irthday fucker” and a punch to the shoulder right before he stepped into the ring.

 

_It's my birthday today._

 

He raised his fists.

 

_Wonder what my folks would say if they saw me now. Like this._

 

A snarl curled his mouth up on one side.

 

The referee clipped the chain to his collar, tugging to make sure it was secure before crossing the ring to attach Nick F'n Gage to the other end of the chain. Gage snapped his teeth at Moxley mockingly, laughing afterwards.

 

“You gonna' bite me, doggy? A little nip? Some of us got scarier teeth than you!” Nick taunted, baring his crooked maw at Jon.

 

The match got underway, both men hauling each other close with the chain until they were practically nose-to-nose in the ring. Mox figured he was in for a few good minutes of shoving and posturing.

 

Gage struck without warning, grabbing Moxley by the throat and belt and hoisting him in the air for a chokeslam. Mox went limp, knowing full well what came afterwards. Gage knelt and slammed Mox's back down on his knee, crumpling Mox not even thirty seconds into the match. Sami screamed in outrage from their corner as Mox clawed blindly at the plywood beneath him, trying to regain his footing. He felt like he'd been broken in half, his lower body barely cooperating with his brain and Sami hollering _get up Mox!_

 

Dimly, Jon wondered why Nick had used his finishing move right off the bat.

 

Mox took a fist to the back of his head that snapped his face down into the plywood. A kick to the ribs curled him into the fetal position and then a boot heel was crushing the side of his skull. Another kick knocked him onto his back. Nick clearly wasn’t fucking around, quickly straddling Mox and raining punches down on his head and neck with extreme prejudice.

 

Mox finally managed to knock Gage off balance by boxing his ears, using the brief pause to bite down on the other man’s forearm hard enough to make his jaw creak. Nate Hatred yelled abuse at Mox from Nick's corner as Gage slammed his chain-wrapped fist into Mox's head, bludgeoning his face. Mox was pretty sure his nose was broken, maybe a cheekbone. His right eye was swelling up. Gage was acting like he wanted to take a fucking _ear_ off though. He'd never done well with the biting, obviously in a panic as Mox's teeth dug a little deeper.

 

_No biting. I promised no biting_ , Mox thought hazily, _She likes it when I bite. Not like this though. Too scary. Makes me bad._

 

He got his feet beneath him and finally opened his jaw, catching Gage's hand before he could throw the punch he was forming. Mox wound the chain sloppily around Nick's wrists, grinning savagely up at him as he pulled it tight. Nick screamed in pain, the chain crushing his wrists together. Moxley quickly jerked Gage's right leg out from under him, dragging him back to the ground and wrapping the rest of the chain around Gage's neck. That savage grin still on his face, he braced himself and then leaned away.

 

Gage thrashed underneath him, struggling wildly. He butted Mox in the head, almost throwing him off. But Jon gritted his teeth and slammed his forehead right back, forcing Gage down again. There was fear in the eyes of Nick F'n Gage when Mox snapped his teeth barely an inch away from his nose, and that made almost every punch he'd taken worthwhile. Moxley _wanted_ Nick to pass out, but he also wanted him to go down kicking and screaming and covered in his own blood. This match had been Nick's fucking idea, and now Nick could suffer the consequences of challenging the fucking _street dog_ to a collar match.

 

Nate Hatred lunged at Mox bodily through the ropes for the Decapitator, knocking him off Nick and yanking the chain even tighter. Mox felt it jerk the collar around his neck and then his air was cut off. He gasped, clawing at Hatred’s eyes while the man grabbed him by the throat and slammed his head back against the plywood.

 

Jon went dark for a minute, coming back up snapping at Hatred's fingers. He caught Nate's index in his teeth and yanked his head to the side, feeling more than hearing the dull _crack_ of bone. Nate screamed in pain, tearing his hand free. Gage appeared to have passed out, body sprawled on the mat behind Hatred.

 

Dog collar matches were never about how much skill you had. How many moves you knew. It was all about whether you were tough enough to endure the punishment your adversary doled out, whether you were strong enough to strike back.

 

_Are you angrier than your opponent? Are you hungrier than your opponent?_

 

The airhorn of the referee and the cheers of the crowd penetrated the red haze Mox was in, but he hardly cared. His hand ripped at the buckle on his collar, undoing it and then slapping the leather against his palm. He beckoned at Hatred, who started scrambling backwards when Mox advanced. “M' g'nna' fuck y' up.” Moxley slurred, his jaw hard to move for some reason. “G'nna' fuckin' _hurt_ y' fucker.”

 

The referee blew his airhorn again, gesturing at Hatred to get out of the ring. Jon felt some of the blind fury ebb away as he stood over Nick F'n Gage's body, watching the man's chest move rapidly up and down. _In. Out. In. Out._

 

The chain was still tight around Nick's neck.

 

_In. Out._

 

The collar Kitten had given Mox rested heavily in his hand, chain links jingling quietly. Jon unclipped the chain and buckled the collar back on with shaking fingers.

 

_She says I'm good. She makes me good_ . 

 

He was having a hell of a time convincing himself, painfully kneeling beside Gage's prone form and starting the slow work of trying to untangle the chain from Nick's neck. His hands wouldn't stop trembling.

 

“Ya’ alright? C’mon, get up.” Sami grunted down at him. “Forget that motherfucker. Ya' won. Go home to ya’ girl.”

 

“He can't fuckin' breathe Callihan, c'mon.” Jon muttered, the aches settling in the longer he stayed relatively still.

 

“Th' fuck d'you care for? He's the ref's problem, Mox. Nate's fuckin' problem. In case ya' forgot, ya' _did_ just bust Hatred's finger a minute ago. I imagine he's not too fuckin' pleased 'bout that.” Sami pointed out.

 

Mox  _had_ actually forgotten about that, strangely. Abruptly aware of the danger of the situation he was in and having sufficiently loosened the chain around Nick's neck, he let Callihan help him out of the ring and through the crowd.

 

_Bad dog_ .

 

...

 

He was startled when he got home that evening. The lights were on in the apartment, he could see them from the street. She wasn’t supposed to be home yet! She had said she would be working late tonight. Mox’s heart was in his throat as his tired legs trudged down the hallway.

 

Had he left out his notebook of gift ideas? _Shit_.

 

He unlocked the door and cautiously poked his head inside. He was greeted with the sight of red and black streamers, wiggling back and forth in the breeze from the door. She was asleep at the table, her head pillowed on her arms. A cake sat on a plate by her elbow, obviously homemade and just a tad lopsided.

 

Mox’s throat closed up. Softly, so softly, he closed the door behind him. He pulled off his boots and coat, then crept to the table. The cake read, “happy birthday jon!” in somewhat squiggly letters.

 

He slunk to the fridge, pulling open the freezer door and then groaning under his breath when he saw a container of his favorite ice cream. Mox fumbled past it for his trusty bag of frozen peas, wrapping them in a dish towel and then pressing the lumpy ice pack to his equally lumpy face with a wince. His eye was all but swollen shut.

 

“Jon...?” she murmured. He turned as she yawned, stretching and then looking up at him. “Jesus! Mox, your-”

 

“I know, I was there.” Mox grunted before she could finish her sentence. “Gage decided breakin’ one off in my ass was a great fuckin’ idea.”

 

“Happy birthday to you, huh?” she said quietly, getting to her feet and coming around the table to hug him. Moxley winced when she wrapped her arms around him, his abused ribs shrieking in protest.

 

“Easy Kitten. M’ a little banged up.” His free hand landed in the small of her back when she went to pull away. “I didn’t say I was fuckin’ _dyin’_. Don’t let go jus’ yet. S’ my fuckin’ birthday after all.” he reasoned, making her laugh. “Did ya’ make that cake? Looks good.”

 

“Oh! Yeah, I did. I hope you can forgive the icing job, it’s not exactly my strong point.” she apologized, going silent when Mox pressed her closer to him and rested his cheek on the top of her head. His face fucking _hurt_ , his body ached and she had remembered his birthday.

 

She _remembered_. She cared enough to bake him a cake. She _loved_ him.

 

_She makes me good._

 

His lower lip quivered and he bit down on it, sucking in a breath through his teeth. The towel full of frozen peas landed on the kitchen floor with a quiet _thud_ , and he hugged her fiercely tight. “It’s hard t‘member ya’ real sometimes, Kitten. It’s...yeah.” He didn’t really care how much of a pussy he must be, to mumble out that kind of bullshit against her hair.

 

He _hurt_ and he _knew_ he almost went too far tonight with Gage and it was such _shit_ because she was still here, still real and holding him tight even though he was fucking _garbage_ and _bad_ and it was like she didn't even notice all the awful shit that he was made of.

 

She kissed his busted-up cheek gently and Mox broke down, hiding his face against her shoulder as he sobbed. She was probably so fucking confused, but instead of asking him what was wrong she just rested a hand on the back of his neck, cradling his face in the hollow of her neck and shoulder.

 

Like he needed _more_ proof that she was secretly an angel. Like he needed another reminder that she could take every hurt he ever had and smooth it out, could take his clenched fists and fill them with something better and stronger than all the pain.

 

“M’sorry,” he choked out finally, scrubbing gingerly at his eyes after he let her go. “It’s jus’ been a bad fuckin’ night. An’ I ain’t had a cake in _years_ , Kitten.”

 

“Sami doesn’t get you one?” She sounded so scandalized, like the notion of him not having a traditional birthday celebration was horrifying to her.

 

Mox shook his head. “Normally we go in together on a bottle of Jack Daniels or somethin’. Money’s been _much_ fuckin’ better this year. We used t’ have it real hard. The liquor let us take more hits, but I am a _sloppy_ motherfucker when Jack is at th’ wheel.”

 

She made a noise in the back of her throat.

 

“Shit, m’ sorry Kitten. Ya’ didn’t need all this shit from me tonight. Let’s have some cake, yeah? Cake an’ a shower an’ bed.” Jon was relieved when she didn’t press him further. The _last_ thing he wanted was to go back down that Memory Lane fuckfest, think back on everything he half-remembered and wished he could half-forget a little better.

 

She held him in the shower, her body pressed tight to his. She was obviously worried. Mox could feel it in the way her fingers wouldn’t stop running over his skin, taking inventory of the different bruises and small cuts. He knew he would heal. He knew he would be fine. But...

 

She was just so fucking tender with him. It made his heart ache and he caught one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles like he had so many times before.

 

“Why do you always do that?” she asked quietly. Mox knew that wasn’t the question she _really_ wanted to ask, but he appreciated that she was trying to contain her curiosity about _what the fuck was going on with him_.

 

“Y’ hands don’t hurt me,” was all he said in reply, running a hand through his hair to rinse off the soap and grime. She nodded, looking a little teary. “Easy, I ain’t tryin’ to make ya’ night worse. Just wanted ya’ to know.” Mox said gently.

 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I get all bunched up sometimes when you say stuff like that.” she murmured. “It makes me feel like how you feel when I have bad days.” Her fingers closed around his wrist. “I worry about you, in case you didn’t notice. I know tonight must have been really bad, and if you don’t want to talk about it right now, that’s okay. When you _do_ though, I’m here.”

 

“Thanks, Kitten.” He sighed heavily, scrubbing hard at the dirt and sawdust that had settled into his skin. “It's been a shit day, y'know? But you're th' best part of it.”

 

She helped him dry off and all but tucked him into bed, curling up beside him once she was sure he was comfortable. Jon was bone-tired, and quickly drifted off when she started carding her fingers through his damp hair.

 

_Bad dog_ .

 

...

 

A few days later found Mox still a little battered but with greenish bruises instead of purple, hanging different streamers in the kitchen. He grumbled under his breath when the tape pulled free for the third time, “ _fuck it_ ,” and wrapped the paper around the shade of the light.

 

He took a moment while he was up there to survey the kitchen. Purple and pink balloons huddled in a corner by the door, purple streamers up. He hadn't put the tablecloth on yet, worried that he might accidentally cut it while he was wrapping her present. Speaking of which...

 

He hopped down off the chair and moved it next to the table again, where her present sat next to a roll of wrapping paper and a spool of ribbon. Mox sat down, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Alrigh'. It's only been eight or so fuckin' years. I've got this.” he said aloud, picking up the scissors.

 

He did not have this _at all_.

 

Jonathan Moxley was excellent at a few things in his life. Like staying conscious. Biting. Eating pussy. Twister.

 

He had never been that great at arts and crafts, so this was a test of the utmost difficulty. Everything was riding on him _not_ making this gift look like a lumpy mass of ribbon, paper and tape. Never mind the fact that he'd made the bed with clean sheets, never mind the two slices of store-bought cake that sat delicately in the fridge, never mind that he'd fucking _vacuumed_. The present was the most important piece of the puzzle, and if he fucked up here...

 

_Why does it sound like someone is putting a key in the lock?_ Jon mused absently, bolting to his feet when he realized that was  _exactly_ what the sound was.  _She's home early! Oh my God, **no!**_ He panicked, scooping up her half-wrapped present and dashing down the hall to hide it in her bedroom closet.

 

“Mox?” She sounded startled. Mox slammed his head against the wall in frustration and then stepped back out of the bedroom.

 

“Uh. S'prise?” He smiled weakly, knowing that it probably looked more like a wince. She looked at him blankly for a few seconds and he felt his smile fade. “Happy...birthday?” he tried again, opening his arms wide.

 

Her face lit up and Mox's heart slammed in his chest. “You remembered!” she said happily, dropping her too-light coat by the door and lunging to wrap him in a hug. He chuckled (mostly in relief because  _ thank fuck I finally got something right _ ), cupping the back of her neck and kissing her hard.

 

“Happy birthday, Kitten.” he breathed, diving back in for another kiss afterwards. She whimpered into his mouth and he groaned, walking her backwards into the kitchen. “Rough day at work?” Mox asked, grimacing in sympathy when she nodded against his chest. “I got two big fuckin' slices of cake an' some ice cream in th' fridge, okay? We gotta' eat it. It's gonna' go bad.” he reasoned, making her giggle.

 

Her hands kneaded at his shirt like her namesake, and Mox knew the look in her eyes when she glanced up at him through her lashes. “Jon...” she began softly.

 

“Uh-oh, someone needs somethin'.” Moxley growled, backing her against the kitchen table. “ _That_ kinda' day, huh? Y' skin all buzzin' with it?” She gave a hiccuping sigh when his thigh rubbed between her legs. “Anythin' for th' birthday girl. Whatever ya' need.” _Anything for Kitten_. Mox shoved the wrapping paper and scissors off the table and she hopped up onto it. “Mouth first?” he asked, mostly to watch her blush when he parted his lips and snaked his tongue out lewdly. “Or fingers?”

 

She wasn't so bold when he was offering, which made it all the more entertaining when he was the instigator. She stammered, fumbled with the hem of her blouse and flushed bright red. Mox grinned, fingers sliding along the waistband of her work pants. He popped the button on them and slowly, so  _ very _ slowly, dragged the zipper down. She went to touch him but he snagged her wrist, kissing her knuckles and then placing her hand carefully down on the table. “Not 'bout me.” he grunted. “ _ You _ .”

 

“But-”

 

“Nope.” Mox said firmly. His fingers rose to the buttons on her shirt, undoing them one by one. He'd be damned if he was going to be rushed. He wanted her squirming, begging under his touch. As helpless as he was every time she reached out to him. He opened her blouse, tugging it off her shoulders and laying it out on the table.

 

“Y' fuckin' beautiful, Kitten. Always are t' me.” he murmured, making her shake her head. “ _Oh_ yes, don't even try that crap with me.” Mox pressed kisses to her collarbone, her neck. “Y' so fuckin' pretty. Like a damn princess. Like an angel.” He lavished her with praise, loving the way she closed her eyes and seemed to bask in it like so much warm sunlight. “I can't even believe I'm with ya' sometimes.” he continued, undoing her bra and sliding the straps down her shoulders. 

 

_ Perfect _ . The word softly hummed in his brain.  _ Perfect perfect perfect _ . 

 

“Lay down, okay? Let's get these pants off.” His voice sounded strange in his ears, low and soft. She obeyed, giggling when he tickled the back of her knee. Mox dragged his fingers hungrily over her newly-bared thighs, sighing and moving up to kiss her again. He made his way back down her body, hot, open-mouthed kisses landing on her breasts and stomach. She whimpered, arching her back in a wordless plea for more and Jon was only too happy to oblige.

 

He was pleasantly surprised at the way she accepted his easy pace, melting under his touch.  _ Should have tried this sooner. I didn't think she'd like it this much _ . She accepted the torture with enthusiasm, staying almost entirely still and just letting him savor her.

 

Mox finally slipped her panties down her legs and dropped them on the floor. He trailed a teasing finger up the inside of her thigh, watching with muted fascination as she writhed and bucked up towards him. She was soaked, flushed, one arm thrown over her eyes and the other one resting under her breasts. “Oh shit, look at you,  _ look _ at  _ you _ .” Mox crooned, feeling breathless. “Wow.” She moaned at his words, raising her hips again. 

 

Moxley pushed her up on the table and then put her knees over his shoulders, adjusting his cock in his jeans before laying a sloppy kiss on her pussy. He was always so greedy when it came to her, and tonight was no exception. She tensed up beneath him when he moved back, relaxing with a soft cry when his tongue stroked her from entrance to clit.

 

Mox moaned against her and she arched her back, fingers raking through his hair. Nonsense words fell from her lips while he ate her out, mixed with  _ more _ and  _ please _ and  _ yes _ . Mox squeezed his cock through his jeans, looking up and catching her eye. He winked, stroking himself a little more dramatically than he would normally and making her blush flare back up.

 

“I bet y' fuckin' like tha'.” he breathed against her thigh, “Wan' me t' put on a fuckin' show for ya', getcha' off while I get off. _Dirty_ fuckin' Kitten.” Mox lapped hungrily at her clit and then closed his mouth over it, suckling softly. His tongue rapidly flicked across her and she suddenly cried out, holding his head still as she came with gentle shudders of her hips against his mouth. 

 

He raised his lips off of her, going to say something. But she got him by the collar and pulled him up her body before he got the chance, her tongue greedily plunging into his mouth for a taste of herself. Mox fought back after a second, kissing her just as hard and pressing his body to hers. She fumbled with his jeans, making a desperate sound in the back of her throat when his dick sprang free. Mox breathed a momentary sigh of relief and then she was scooting her body lower, grabbing his hips with her thighs and dragging him in.

 

“ _Easy_ , are y' sure-”

 

She caught the D ring of his collar and jerked him down so his forehead touched hers. “ _ Jon _ .” Just one word, thick with desperation.

 

He'd spent so long taking her apart, he really wasn't too surprised that she was still riled up. Mox slid his jeans down a little lower and cradled her hips. “Happy birthday, Kitten.” he said softly.

 

She squirmed under him, crying out when he was fully settled inside her. “ _ Kitten _ .” Mox rasped, his forehead resting in the hollow of her neck. “Grippin' me like a fuckin'  _ vise _ , like y' were made for me, holy shit, Jesus fuck.” 

 

Her fingers were still wound through his collar and Jon let her control the pace, responding as best as he could to her direction. Soon enough she had urged him to a frenzy, his lips mouthing over her jaw as he fucked into her mercilessly. “ _ Please! _ ” she begged, making Jon groan loudly. “Please, please I'm gonna' come  _ Jon please-! _ ”

 

“ _Kitten_ ,” Jon snarled, his body gone tight over her as she bucked her hips and bit down hard on his shoulder. “For fuck's sake, y' better come _now_ because y' gonna' make me fuckin' fill ya' up.” he gritted out desperately while her teeth dug into his skin. “Make me fuckin' come in ya' like the little _slut_ ya' are, Mox's little slut. Waitin' for me after m' matches, _strokin'_ me through my pants, _fuckin'_ me like a fuckin' _champ_.” The words just kind of poured out of him haphazardly, all clumsy and primal. “Grabbin' my collar an' orderin' my ass aroun' because y' know _exactly_ what I need. Well _Mox_ knows exactly what _you_ need.” His mouth pressed to her ear, stubble rubbing her cheek. “ _Come_.”  


She cried out, rocking her hips against him as she came. Mox barely pulled out in time, coming hard on her stomach while she trembled and dropped her arms to the table. “Christ.” Jon panted, making her laugh breathlessly.

 

“Best birthday _ever_.” she mumbled contentedly, sliding a finger through the mess on her stomach and giving him an absolutely _criminal_ show when she popped it into her mouth.

 

“Jesus, Kitten. _Down_ boy.” Jon grunted at his cock, which had throbbed at the sight. “Gonna' give me a fuckin' heart attack. Lemme' catch my breath first.”

 

“I was promised cake. And ice cream.” she said pompously from her place on the table as Mox pulled his jeans back up, waving her arm in the air for emphasis.

 

Moxley grinned. “Y' want me t' eat it off ya', too?  _ Needy _ Kitten.” She sputtered, going bright red again. He laughed, rumpling her hair as he went to grab a towel to clean her off with.

 

...

 

“So y' present is...I mean it's nothin' fancy. Not really.” Mox said awkwardly as he washed the cups in the sink.

 

She blinked up at him, seeming confused while she dried off a plate and put it back in the cupboard. “Slowly making love to me with your mouth and then fucking my brains out wasn't my present?”

 

Jon let out a startled bark of laughter. Her terminology was going to be the fucking  _ death _ of him someday. “I mean, if y'  _ want _ ya' can count it as one. But I got ya' a real present, too. I was wrappin' it when ya' showed up.” he explained.

 

“Where is it, then? Oh my God, _that's_ why you ran down the hall like a bat out of hell. Where did you stash it?” she asked eagerly, bouncing in excitement.

 

“The closet. It's only kinda' wrapped, but that's probably as good as it's gettin' so I don't mind ya' openin'...” Mox trailed off as she bolted. “...it.”

 

She ran back into the kitchen a minute later with the present in her hands, making delighted noises under her breath as she ripped apart the paper. Mox propped his hip against the counter, folding his arms over his chest and trying to look like he  _ wasn't _ terrified she wouldn't like it. “I uh. Callihan an' the saleslady helped me pick it out. M' kinda' bad at presents.” he confessed, “haven't really worried about 'em for a while, so...I hope it fits?”

 

She quickly threw on the long coat, turning back and forth and watching how the skirt of it flowed around her when she moved. The she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him until he had to pull back for breath. “Thank you! I love it!” she said happily, hugging him tight. “It's so soft, oh my God, remind me to send that saleslady a thank-you letter. Sami too. Thank you, thank you!”

 

“Jesus, s'jus' a coat.” Mox mumbled, flushing a little under her gratitude.

 

“It's not ' _just a coat_ ' and you know it, Mox.” She kissed his cheek, laying her head on his chest afterwards. “Thank you.”

 

“Shit Kitten, y' makin' me blush. There goes my fuckin' rep again.”

 

“You'll live, I think.”

 

Jon held her silently for a few moments, resting his cheek on her head. “Y' damn important t' me, Kitten. An' I know ya' know that, but I still gotta' say it. So...so happy birthday, an' I want y' to stay warm.” he said the last bit in a rush, pulling away and clearing his throat loudly. “Uh. Bedtime, yeah?”

 

Her fingers twined through his own and she raised his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles and making Jon suck in a breath. “Because your hands don't hurt.” she said softly in reply to his unasked question. “Because you're good, even if you can't see it. Because you're mine, and I'm yours.”

 

Jon made a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob in his throat, pulling her back to his chest. “Because y' mine, an' Jesus fuckin'  _ Christ _ , am I yours.” he echoed, wrapping his arms around her again.

 

_ Good Kitten _ .

 


	8. Good Bad Dog

Having her watch his matches was...touch and go. Mox felt sometimes that it was cruel to put her through that crap, make her watch him win or lose. Never mind that it was how they'd met all those months ago. Some things didn't bear repeating.

 

Currently he was getting his head pummeled into the plywood after taking a _thunderous_ Samoan Driver and regretting with all his heart that he'd agreed to this match with Younger.

 

It was an old, familiar sensation, the ringing in his ears and the red trickles that stung and blurred his vision. There was the coppery taste that turned his stomach if too much dribbled down his throat. The heave of breath in his lungs _hurt_ ; the roof of his mouth was raw from biting. Moxley was in a bad way and he was well aware that maybe, just _maybe_ , letting Sami irritate Drake Younger right before their match might have been a terrible idea.

 

Never mind that he didn’t know she was going to show up tonight. It was a surprise. She wasn’t supposed to come. This fight was _ugly_ and Mox felt every punch tenfold because he knew she was watching. She was watching him take the whupping from hell. Mox saw the look on her face and gritted his teeth. She had her hand pressed over her mouth, her eyes radiating panic. He knew she would ask him why he had signed on for more singles matches. He still had a few marks from Gage and Hatred.

 

Christmas was an expensive, pointless holiday. One that Moxley normally didn't celebrate. When he came home one night to a fucking _tree_ in the apartment (a small one, but a tree nonetheless) and her on the floor patiently untangling a giant, shiny mass of lights, he realized that at least one of them thought Christmas was worth it. Even if Moxley didn't see the point of decorating or any of that shit, obviously she did. And since he loved her, that meant that he had to at least _tolerate_ Christmas.

 

Singles matches were easier and easier to come by and the extra pay was good. Jon wasn't sure how many presents he was supposed to get her, wasn't sure what the protocol was here. She worked in an office so maybe some nice pens? A stapler? He had gone to the local Staples and spent _twenty minutes_ staring at all the different pens and pencils. This one said smooth, that one wrote upside-down. _Who needs a pen that writes upside-down?!_ Mox had thought in confusion.

 

Even Callihan had picked up a few matches, filling his time while Jon mused about pens with gravity-defying ink. They worked well as a team, but it was a relief to find out that they didn't necessarily _need_ each other to get by. Sami held his own in every match thus far and Moxley felt an odd surge of pride for his partner and friend.

 

A bundle of florescent light tubes shattered across Moxley's back and he sprawled to the ground, barely closing his eyes in time to keep the powdered glass at bay. It dug into his palms and forearms as he floundered.

 

Never mind that he’d prepared as much as he could, training for three or four hours a day. He had even forgone time with Kitten (which probably explained her presence tonight). Callihan had helped but it wasn’t enough, it just wasn’t enough. Once Younger went on the offensive it was usually best to stay the fuck out of his way. Barring that, beg for mercy. The guy was deceptively quick and _strong_ as an ox, with a temperament that closely resembled a threatened rattlesnake. Explosive, deadly, and _smart_.

 

Moxley refused to run _or_ beg and he was relatively certain that his pride might be the thing that finally got him killed, as Younger’s fingers laced through his hair. Drake hauled Moxley up like he weighed nothing, growling, “ _look at her,_ ” in his ear. Mox didn’t raise his eyes. He didn’t want to see her. Not like this.

 

_I'm good I'm good_.

 

Younger spat, splattering blood across Jon’s face. “She’s looking at me like I just stole all her toys. I can’t believe someone _likes_ you. The rabid-ass street dog. I ought to put you down. Make her watch. You ain’t healthy for her and you _know_ it, why the fuck d'ya think you--”

 

His fist cracked into Younger’s jaw and the other man stumbled back, startled. Moxley crouched in his corner, snapping his teeth wildly at Drake when he went to grab him again. The control Mox had when he got like this was limited at best, his vision fading in and out of focus while blood and spit dribbled freely down his chin. The last dregs of energy he had to draw on were gone, his legs shaking underneath him.

 

He didn't dare to look at her. _I'm good I'm good._ He didn't need to look.

 

“If you forfeit now, maybe I won’t hop out this ring and go get her.” Younger’s expression was gleeful as he watched Mox stiffen. “No? Too bad.” Drake began to climb through the ropes.

 

“ _Wait!_ ” Mox rasped, his fingers clawing desperately at Younger’s leg. Drake’s kick landed squarely in the middle of Moxley’s forehead and the darkness that had been hovering on the edges of Jon’s vision finally swallowed him.

 

It might have been minutes or hours later. Callihan was shaking his shoulder, hollering Mox’s name like he was trying to wake the dead. Kitten was screaming, _screaming_ wouldn’t stop screaming, what was wrong _Kitten_ \--

 

Mox rolled over onto his stomach, every nerve in his body signing back in with a resounding analysis of pain. Sami's nose had been broken earlier in the match, one hand cupping it and the other digging into Mox’s shoulder. Drake was in his corner and the crowd was losing its collective mind as he manhandled Kitten, throwing her back into the corner and laughing when she tried to get to Jon.

 

“You want your street dog? Look at him, he can’t even _move_.” Drake snorted, “what the hell are _you_ gonna' do, huh sweetheart? Face it, you're in big--” Kitten bounded forward and sank her teeth into Drake’s bare shoulder, her arms quickly wrapping around his ribs and gripping his tank top to secure herself. Younger stepped back, swearing loudly and grabbing a handful of her hair to yank her off of him. “The fuck is _wrong_ with you, bitch?” he grunted, ripping at her hair.

 

She refused to let go, sawing her teeth deeper into the inked area of his shoulder. Drake took another step back, and was finally within reach.

 

Moxley’s teeth crunched down onto Younger’s thumb, his jaw firmly locked as Drake screamed in pain and jerked his arm in an attempt to free himself. Callihan lunged at Drake’s throat, dragging the other man down to the plywood and yelling “ _run dammit!_ ” at Kitten. But she stood there, frozen. Like she had the first time. Back when Mox was just a bastard and she was just someone that needed protection.

 

Mox got a sudden urge to crawl to her and rub his jaw against her leg again. To feel the sting of his split skin against her shin, feel the tension ease out of her at his touch. Sit by her side like a good dog.

 

_I'm good I'm good_.

 

Drake got his other hand free of Callihan and grabbed the back of Mox’s head, slamming his cheek down into the powdered glass from the light tubes and dragging him back and forth. Mox kept his eyes shut, feeling the glass pin-prick and jab his skin with an odd sense of disconnect. It was too much pain all at once and it ended up muddling together into a sick, dull ache.

 

Mox’s teeth were drawing blood now, pulling at the meat of Drake’s hand with purpose. He would be damned if he would let Younger get away with this shit, half-conscious or not. Sami was still hammering away at Younger’s face while the other man tried to fend him off one-handed, yelling obscenities the whole time. Mox started scratching at Drake's ribs underneath his top, blunt fingernails raking the skin.

 

“Give up fucker, give up!” Callihan grunted, forcing a hand underneath Mox’s chin and pushing up with all his strength. Drake chose that moment to extract his hand from Moxley’s teeth, yelling in pain as he sleeved the majority his thumb.

 

Jon retched, almost vomiting in an effort to get the skin out of his mouth. A “ _you sick fuck!_ ” chant burst to life as he shakily stood and wiped the blood off his chin. Younger writhed on the ground, broken glass forgotten as he clutched his hand to his chest.

 

_I’m good I’m good I’m g_ \--

 

Mox snapped his aching jaw shut angrily, tired of fooling himself. Callihan instantly backed away at the sharp _clack_ of Mox’s teeth. Moxley took a step towards Drake, and then another. The crowd quieted. Moxley could hear the blood thundering in his ears, hear the throb of his body. Younger’s whimpering. Sami's clogged breathing.

 

_Her_ voice, saying his name. Like he was good. Like she was glad he was alright. “M-Mox.” Soft, so soft.

 

Jesus Christ, how the hell did he forget she was still there? Mox couldn’t look up at her, focusing on Drake. “ _What_.” he growled.

 

_I'm bad I'm bad_.

 

Her legs, barely in his field of vision, cautiously made their way around Younger, giving the other man a wide berth. Moxley was reminded again of the first time she’d stepped into the cage.

 

“ _Get out of there, little girl, before something bad happens to you!_ ”

 

Something bad _had_ happened to her the night they met. Something _awful_ had happened. Him. Moxley. Jon. Whoever he was at any given point, the ramshackle at _best_ fucking human being. Skin and bones and _hate_. She'd made him better, given him a home and love. What had he given her in return?

 

Mox's face heated in shame. It was so clear to him now as he stood over Younger. As much as he hated to admit it, Drake was right. He was terrible for her, obviously. How many times would she be in danger because of him? How many times would this happen?

 

She was coming to him. _Oh no._

 

Fingers slipped under his chin, tapping lightly against the quick-blooming bruises from Callihan’s assist. He jerked his head out of her grasp, staring off to the side. Those fingers tugged on his collar and pulled his face back. Mox refused to look her in the eye, fixing his gaze on a point over her shoulder.

 

_I'm bad I'm bad_.

 

“Jon…” she said softly, cradling the less-battered side of his face. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

 

Younger grabbed her ankle with his good hand and went to rip it out from underneath her. “Y’ fuckin’ _cunt_.” The man hissed between his teeth.

 

Mox ducked and slung her over his shoulder then slammed his foot down on Drake's wrist . “ _Don’t_ _._ ” he snarled. Drake screamed and flailed his body wildly, trying to tear his arm out from under Mox's foot. “ _Touch._ ” Mox bent down, shifting her weight further back. He snapped his teeth in a parting shot to Drake and then lifted his leg, stepping away from the prone man and setting her gently back on her feet. “Call'han, y'kay?” he called hoarsely to his partner after the referee had decided the match and the noise from the crowd had died somewhat. “Y’nose. S’fucked.”

 

“M' fine, yeah. I'll get Vortekz t' bang it back into place.” Sami grinned around his hand, giving Mox a thumbs up. “Hell of a show, Mox! Y' been givin' her bitin' lessons? Kinky.” Callihan continued, making Mox choke out a gasp of laughter.

 

Kitten's hand was shaking when she grabbed his own. The aggression still in his body flagged, quickly replaced by an almost painful need to hold her.

 

“ _You ain't healthy for her and you know it!_ ”

 

Jon squeezed her hand lightly and then released it.

 

…

 

She didn’t want to let him shower by himself. Mox could understand why, he wasn’t standing so good. They’d gotten more than a few doubletakes on the stagger home, though, and he was desperate to assess the damage after he got all the blood off.

 

The hot water stung his abraded skin, making him groan. The pain was soothing in a way. Real. _Alive_.

 

“You okay?” She hovered nervously beside the shower curtain, pacing back and forth. “Jesus, I've never seen you guys fight with the light tubes before.”

 

“S’ flashier. F’ special ‘casions. Bu’ fuckin’ painful. Gotta’ sit here af’ward an’ dig the shit outta’ m’ skin.” Mox grunted, doing his best to stay still under the spray of water. “Promise I’ll rinse out y’ shower. Don’ wan’ y’ wi’ glass inna’.” Briefly, crazily, he debated dragging her into the shower with him and crushing her to his chest. Fuck the glass, fuck how much he hurt. If she was there, if she touched him, he’d be fine.

 

_Fuck_ , he was weak sometimes. He didn’t even deserve to be _near_ her, never mind touch her.

 

“ _You ain’t healthy for her and you know it!_ ”

 

Mox dropped his head against the shower wall, sucking in a breath. _I know it_. She could have been hurt, _really_ hurt. Drake wasn't known for his compassion.

 

“Jon?” she asked gently. Always so damn gentle with him, like he was a skittish animal. It would have been exasperating if he didn't feed off of it. He loved the tenderness, the kindness that she just _had_ for whatever reason.

 

_No, I love everything about her. Not just her kindness. Not just how good she is to me. I love her when she's having a breakdown, I love her when everything's sunshine. I love her, I love her, and_...

 

Jon blinked back the tears, chewing his lower lip.

 

_If I love her, I shouldn't do this to her._

 

“It isn’t fair.” Mox said thickly, bracing his palms on the wall. “Not fair t’ you. Christ, M’ a bastard. D’ya ever think ‘bout when we met, Kitten? When y’ came t’ me an’ I put m’ head on ya’ leg.” Mox was rambling at this point, his words slurring in exhaustion. “Y’ skin was so fuckin’ soft. Like goddamn fuckin’ flower petals n’ shit. Y’ thought I’d keep y’ safe. All I fuckin’ did was make shi’ worse, fucked everythin’ up for you. Bad fuckin’ dog, _bad_ fuckin’ dog.”

 

“Mox-”

 

“Nah, I get it. I’m no fuckin’ good Kitten. Shoulda’ just kicked ya’ ex’s ass an’ turned y’ down. M’ so sorry, shit I’m so sorry,” he blubbered, losing the battle with his tears. “What kinda’ guy am I, fuckin’ took advantage of you when y’ were vuln'able an’ scared. Y’ needed someone t’ protect ya’ an’ I jus’ fuckin’ licked y’ cunt until ya’ let me fuck you. Weaseled m' way in like a fuckin' scumbag. I’m s-”

 

“Are you done?” She interrupted his rant, reaching into the shower and turning off the water.

 

Mox sputtered, rubbing his eyes. “Y’ don’ get it, Kitten. M’ a fuckin’ _dick_.” he whimpered.

 

“Oh trust me, if there’s one thing I _get_ it’s your dick.” Kitten grumbled, tossing him a warm towel. “I also get that you kept me from getting my ass handed to me anymore when I wasn't brave enough to do it myself, and tonight you kept me from ending up with a face full of broken glass. I didn't get hurt, all he did was push me back and pull on my hair. I've been in worse fights than _that_ , Jon.” She sighed, like she was stating the obvious.

 

Moxley sniffled and slowly started patting himself dry. It felt like he hadn't missed any glass, but everything just _stung_. He still needed to rinse out the shower thoroughly, make sure it was safe for her.

 

She apparently wasn't done talking, though. “You keep me sane when I’m having rotten days. When I want to be alone, you respect that. You took care of me when I was sick. The list goes on. You don’t get to do all this decent stuff for me and then not expect me to do the same, got it? I’m here for _you_ , Jon. I don't care if that means I have to slap Band Aids on your boo-boos, protect you from deadly thunderstorms or go toe-to-teeth with yet another big scary dude whose smell leaves much to be desired. I came tonight of my own free will; I can accept the consequences of my decisions.” she said firmly.

 

Mox twisted the towel nervously in his hands. “Y' shouldn't have t'...I didn't wan' ya' there tonight.” he admitted quietly. “I knew it was gonna' be ugly. Didn't wan' y' t' see it.” He fumbled with the collar around his neck. “Was bad dog shit, Kitten. I don't like...I don't wan' you t' see me like that anymore. I'm...m' gonna' sleep alone tonight. Jus’ on the couch. Okay? Shouldn't sleep inna' bed. Bad dog.”

 

He wanted more than anything, _anything_ in the world to take her to their bed, _their_ bed and love her until she came apart, until his breath was in her lungs and he could convince himself for a minute that she really was _real_. That what she said was true, what he felt was true. Something real that didn’t have to fucking hurt for him to believe it, something fucking beautiful and rare.

 

It was _terrifying_ and the desire settled in his gut like a rock. _Greedy, so greedy. Bad dog, you don't deserve anything_.

 

She squinted up at him and he fought the urge to smooth out the lines that furrowed her brow. “You just went through all that crap and you want to sleep on the _couch?_ How about I’ll take the couch, and you can have the bed? I mean, I don’t want to sleep alone but I’ll feel less awful if you’re at least comfortable.”

 

“ _Fuck’s_ sake will you stop bein’ so damn _nice_.” Mox snapped. “I’m an asshole an’ I’m sleepin’ on the couch.”

 

“Like hell you are, you’re _not_ an asshole and you’re sleeping on the _bed!_ ” she shot back. “I don't care if I have to fucking _strap_ you to it!”

 

“Kinky.” The word was out of his mouth before he could bite it back, a force of habit born from years of talking to Callihan.

 

Kitten stopped dead, her cheeks still puffed up with whatever she was going to say next. Mox’s laugh _hurt_ but he didn’t fucking care, wheezing a little bit at the look on her face. After a second she started laughing too. “ _Kinky?_ Seriously?” she snorted.

 

“M’ sorry. I’m in a bad fuckin’ way right now, y’know? All fucked up inside. Everythin’ hurts. I thought Drake was gonna’ fuck you up an’ I didn’t think…I didn’t know if I could stop him.” Mox mumbled after her laughter died off. “Y’ were screamin’ an’ fightin’ like a wildcat an’ I jus’ kinda’ panicked an’ did what I do best.” Mox’s stomach turned and he fought back a wave of nausea. “He pulled free right when Callihan pressed my jaw up so uh. He's missin' skin. I told you. S' bad dog shit.”

 

“Mox. You're sleeping in the bed. This is not a discussion.” she said sternly. “You're hurt and you're sleeping in the bed.”

 

“I ain't done nothin' t' deserve sleepin' in the bed.” Jon replied, fully aware that he sounded sulky.

 

“The bed is easier to clean if you're hurt!” Kitten yelled, finally seeming to lose her temper. “Do you think I _like_ trying to get blood out of the couch cushions?!”

 

“D'ya think I like _bleedin'_ all over ya' damn cushions?” Mox refused to raise his voice. He wasn't going to be that guy. Ever, if he could help it. “Shit, y' shouldn' have t' clean up after me. Kitten. I'm no fuckin' good f' you. Jus' make everythin' worse n' worse. Younger coulda' fuckin' tore y' apart tonight an' I wouldn't have been able t' do anythin' 'bout it.”

 

“He wouldn't have--”

 

“Oh, y' don't know Younger like _I_ know fuckin' Younger. I'm jus' so glad you're safe.”

 

“You don't get to say stuff like that! We're _fighting_ , dammit!”

 

“I know. M' bad at fightin' with you though, Kitten.” Jon cupped her face, touching his forehead to hers momentarily. “Thank you f' everythin'. Y' think if I put a sheet down on th' couch, it'll be okay?” She bit her lip, then nodded slowly. “M' gonna' go get into some clothes an' then I'll make up th' couch. Don' shower yet, m' gonna' make sure I got everythin' out of the tub.”

 

“Okay.” She sounded defeated and Jon's heart twisted.

 

“I'll...I'm sorry, Kitten. M' jus' a bad dog.”

 

Mox headed to their bedroom and started digging through the top drawer of the bureau for a clean pair of boxers. _Bad dog, so fucking bad. So weak. Should have left. Should have left. Just going to put her in more danger. Bad dog._ The shower turned on and Mox jerked his head up, startled. _I told her...shit, if there's still glass in there-!_

 

He practically _flew_ back across the hallway and shoved open the bathroom door. “Kitten! Y' gonna' get _cut_ or somethin', I told ya' to...wait...” he began frantically, then trailed off as he saw her on her knees beside the shower, an eyebrow raised while she rinsed out the tub. “Shit, sorry. I thought y' were showerin'. My bad.” Jon dragged a hand through his hair. “M' sorry.”

 

He face softened. “It's okay, Mox.”

 

“It really ain't though.” Moxley groaned. “M' sorry. It's weird t' me that you care still, alright? S' weird that y' worry. Dunno' what t' do about it. Obviously this ain't my first job but it's the longest time I've stuck with a job so far, y'know? It's a hard job, yeah, but f' whatever reason it's easier t' me than doin' stuff like you do. I got...sittin' still an' shit, I couldn't. Can't.” He was rambling again, he knew he was, but the words just kept coming. “I know it ain't healthy f' me in the long run. Me _or_ y' couch. Or you, hell. Y' the most important thing in the world t' me, Kitten. I don't like hurtin' ya', an' I sure as shit don't like puttin' ya' in danger. You an' Callihan are all I fuckin' got on this planet.”

 

“Will it make you feel better if I let you know ahead of time when I'm coming to a match?” she asked, scooting forward a little bit. “I'm sorry I kind of just popped up tonight. I've missed you and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

“I was trainin' f' Younger. S' why I ain't seen ya'. Sorry about that.” Mox dropped his hand and she nudged her face against it, rubbing her forehead against his thigh. He pet her hair absently, fixated on the water in the tub. “Y' shouldn't have seen that shit. S' fuckin' bad shit.”

 

“You do what you need to do, Jon.” she murmured.

 

“Why the hell d'you miss me?” Mox asked gruffly. “Ain't nothin' good about me. Ain't nothin' bad about you. Why the hell do you like me so much?” _Why do you love me, why the fuck do you love me, I'm such a goddamn mess_. “Ain't much about me t' like.”

 

“Why do you like _me?_ ” she asked instead, kissing his leg afterwards. He felt the heat of her mouth even through the towel and he barely kept from shivering.

 

“Y' been good t' me, Kitten. I...I dunno'. I love you. You know that.” Her question threw him off balance and he struggled to answer. “You made me wanna' help you. I didn't know who the fuck y' were, just that y' needed me. An'...I ain't ever had anybody fuckin' need me before.”

 

“Maybe you needed me, too.” she pointed out. “In a different way than I needed you. At least at first, I imagine.”

 

“Maybe. I never needed anybody before, though. Dunno' what it feels like,” he said grudgingly.

 

“Oh yeah sure, whatever you say tough guy.” She stuck her tongue out at him and Mox couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “You’re my mutt, right?”

 

“S’ long as y’ want me, yeah.”

 

“I’m your kitten, right?” She rubbed her cheek against his leg.

 

“Yeah, obviously. Long as y’ want t’ be.”

 

“Your kitten wants you in our bed.”

 

“That ain’t fair fightin’ Kitten, that’s fuckin’ cheatin’.” Moxley protested.

 

“Mm, don’t care.” She lazily stretched beside him, looking every ounce her namesake. “You going to sleep in our bed or not?”

 

Mox was tempted to give in. The _bad dog_ clamored in his mind though, and he grimaced. “Nah, I’ll stick with th’ couch. Sorry.”

 

Kitten slowly got to her feet and Jon swallowed hard at the look on her face. She looked positively _dangerous_ , fingers lacing through his collar and resting hot against his neck. “You are giving me a _lot_ of sass tonight. Especially after I helped.”

 

_Oh fuck_. That had been fucking _poetry_ , her snapping into Drake like she wasn’t scared at all, like she was ready to go through hell or high water to get to her mutt. It wasn’t exactly an evasive tactic like he’d shown her, but _damn_ was it something to watch. “Y’ fuckin’ lit Younger up like a firework, Kitten. Talk about an assist, ya’ did the whole damn _play_.” Mox said, covering her hand on his collar with his own. “I didn’t deserve y’ help. Shoulda’ told you what was goin’ on, instead of hidin’ it an’ thinkin’ I could get shit done alone. Were y’ scared? You sure as shit didn’t look it.”

 

_Until afterwards, when she saw_ _ **bad**_ _**dog**_ _**bad**_ _**dog**_ _and Callihan in a fucking pile with Younger_ \--

 

“Not while I was doing it? I was too mad to be scared. I couldn’t get past him and you were kind of laying there in a pool of blood and broken glass. It was a little distressing.” She replied lightly, almost flippantly. Her tightening grip on his collar indicated more beneath the surface. “Callihan was yelling your name over and over and you weren’t moving. My screaming wasn’t helping so…” She trailed off.

 

“So y’ gave Drake a little _Moxin_ ’ of ya’ own.” Mox knew he was in trouble but he still smiled. “Feisty thing. I knew there was a reason I liked you. ‘Sides the obvious, a’course.”

 

Her hand jerked on the D ring of his collar. Moxley was not a weak man by any means, easily taking down people twice his size in matches. But as soon as she touched him he was helpless, obedient. Ready, willing, and able to do whatever she requested.

 

He ducked his head down and she touched her forehead to his own for a minute. “Do you trust me?” she asked softly.

 

“Wi’ my fuckin’ life.” No hesitation whatsoever. Jon was tired to death of constantly looking over his shoulder, sick of wondering if he would wake up from the dream he was in when it came to her. If this was where she brought out the discipline, so be it.

 

“I need you to do something for me.”

 

“Whatever y’ want.” Jon awaited the punishment that he knew was long owed.

 

“Get in the bedroom. And get on the bed. I expect you naked when I’m done in here. _Don’t_ disobey me.” She murmured, releasing his collar afterwards. “Now go.”

 

Mox stood there for a second, bewildered. “Ain’t you gonna’…?”

 

“I said _go_.”

 

Moxley felt kind of dumb once he laid down, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of shifting around awkwardly, it became apparent that laying on his stomach was the only way he could even _pretend_ to be comfortable. He dozed off like that, his head pillowed on arms that still stung.

 

Gentle fingers carded through his hair and soft lips pressed to his ear. “Stay still.” She whispered. Mox, half-asleep, nodded. Those fingers trailed over his shoulders, down his battered back. Three ‘X’s were traced across the small of his back, slow and careful. “My poor mutt.”

 

Jon mouthed at her hand, still not really awake. “Mm’ y’ mutt though.”

 

“Roll onto your side for me?” Even drowsy he was powerless to resist, obediently exposing his stomach. Her tongue licked softly at his hip, and when she bit down it drew a sigh of relief from Jon. He wasn’t being punished, then. She’d never punished him before but after what had happened tonight...

 

“My bad mutt needs to be taken care of,” she murmured against his skin.

 

“Don’ deserv’it.” Mox slurred, arching into her regardless and noticing in the back of his mind that she was deliciously naked. She started sucking a hickey to life on his hip, making him groan. “Lov’it when y’ do tha’.” he confessed. “Makes me fuckin’ cream m’self when m’ in th’ ring n’ some guy’s gotta’ stare atcha’ marks on m’ neck n’ shoulders.”

 

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked curiously.

 

Mox, drunk on sleep and pain and her teeth slowly scraping across his skin, saw no reason not to be honest. “M’ owned. S’ kinky as fuck, gets me off like y’ wouldn’t believe.”

 

“ _Really_ now.”

 

“ _Mmm_ yeah.” Jon moaned, pushing his face into the pillow a little harder when she bit down. “ _O-oh_ fuck, mm, fuck. Kitten, _fuck_.” Dimly, Mox knew he should probably be embarrassed. But shit, she was slamming every damn button he had. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

 

“So ones on your shoulders are better?” she asked, and he nodded drowsily, blue eyes fluttering shut when she started licking and sucking harshly on the already-scraped skin of his right shoulder.

 

“Oh God, _yes_.” Mox whimpered, hand raising to tangle in her hair. His cock stirred sleepily to life, prodding harder and harder against her stomach. “Kitten, Kitten y’ gotta’ stop. I can’t--”

 

“Mm, I’m pretty sure you can.”

 

Oh. _Oh_. He suddenly realized that this _was_ his punishment. Like him taking her apart piece by piece with his mouth and fingers, this was a new torment and he was pretty sure it was his favorite so far.

 

She dug her teeth in, getting a soft cry out of him. His whole body thrummed, different points of pain feeding into the warm, pleasurable throb in his groin. Jon felt like he was drowning, her hot mouth scalding his raw skin with that sick _good good good_ bite and press of tongue. He cupped the back of her head with shaking fingers and held her there until she tipped back, her mouth smeared red with the fruits of her efforts.

 

“Is that good, Jon?” So soft, always so soft. Fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked him achingly slow, teasing and tender. Jon rolled his hips greedily, his back singing to painful life as the skin pulled and a thousand tiny cuts reopened. Her other hand pulled his collar, dragging him down to her lips. She tightened her grip and he was gasping into her mouth, bucking his hips. The loss of air intensified the pain-pleasure coursing through him, his chest rising and falling quickly in a futile effort.

 

“Still good?” She was worried, he knew she was worried. He nodded lazily, his head lolling forward. The sensation of being entirely vulnerable, at her mercy for _literally_ his next breath, sent a lightning jolt down his spine. With his last ounce of air Jon moaned, humping her hand shamelessly. The rapid snap of his hips seemed to alert her to his impending orgasm and she released his collar. 

 

Mox whined, the noise dying off as she pressed her mouth to his ear again. “Are you going to come for me, Mox? Can you hold out any longer? What a _good_ _dog_ you are, so good for me. Keeping me safe, making me happy.” she crooned. 

 

Mox whimpered, unsure of how to feel. “M' b-bad f' you though.” he gasped.

 

She pressed her body tight to his, the slick between her legs rubbing over his thigh and making his breath catch. “I think differently,” was her calm reply. Then, “I also think it's time we got off, don't you?” She worked herself quickly, two fingers buried in the body that he loved so  _very_ much. Her other hand caressed him just as quick, had him writhing under her touch in seconds.

 

“Goddamn, _fuck_ , m' gonna' come.” he choked out, startled when she let go of his cock and twisted his collar up tight, so damn tight, just like he needed. 

 

“C-come for me.” she said shakily, her own back arching and legs quivering. “Please _please_ \--”

 

Until he met Kitten, very few people had indulged his collar... _thing_ . He wasn't really sure what to call it. She made him happy to be vulnerable, happy to come exactly when she demanded it of him. And so he did, releasing on his stomach and the sheets with a desperate, breathless noise. Kitten arched against him, moaning and shivering as she came. 

 

“Mmm...” Mox groaned when she let him go, her hot mouth already back to teasing the fevered skin of his shoulder. “Y' terrible, Kitten. Gonna'...gonna' make me blush when I fight.” he complained dazedly, “But I wan' _way_ fuckin' more n' that. Make that shit _obvious_. M' yours, ain't I?”

 

Her soft laugh soothed him down into the bed, calmed the pleasure-pain back to that warm ache in his bones. Mox felt her use the towel to wipe him off, then she curled up into his chest and his arms found their way around her.

 

“Can't wait to change th' sheets _again_ tomorrow. Beats scrubbing th' couch.” she mumbled dryly, making him grin drowsily and kiss the top of her head.

 

_Good Kitten_ .

 


	9. Tied Up Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!

“ _It’s just a holiday party for the office, Jon_.” What the hell had he gotten himself into? Jon scowled at his reflection, messing with his hair once again. She’d put some godawful, _sticky_ product in it to make it behave but it seemed to be fighting back with a vengeance. Mox was pretty sure his hair had _never_ been this unruly (or flammable, for that matter).

 

“You look _fine_ , stop ruining it!” she chided him sharply, wetting her hands at the sink and slicking his hair down. It was easy for _her_ to say, her hair always looked good, just as good as the rest of her. Tonight she had dressed in a sleek pencil skirt with nylons, and a pretty blue blouse. He’d seen all the pieces of this outfit separately at one point or another, but _together_ …she definitely could pull off ‘hot secretary’ any day of the damn week.

 

Jon didn’t think he looked too shabby, all things considered. Sami, upon hearing that he had a “ _genuine, honest-t'-goodness corp'rate Christmas-holiday party_ ” to go to, had hauled his ass to the local Salvation Army where he proceeded to make Mox try on what seemed like fifty suitcoats.

 

“ _You need one tha' ‘centuates y' fuckin’ shoulders, but buttons tight at ya’ ribs or waist. I dated a fashion designer once, trust me man_.” Callihan apparently knew his shit, because she had been absolutely _thrilled_ when Mox had dragged the semi-matching jacket, shirt and slacks out of the plastic bag.

 

Now though, he wasn’t so sure. Everything fit fine, but he didn’t feel…one hundred percent behind it. Something was off with her; the way that she got ready seemed a little weird to him. She wasn't acting like she was headed to a party. She was so quiet. Almost like she was worried about something. What if she was worried about _him?_ Anxiety flared up for a second before another thought muscled into the area. What if someone at this party recognized him? What would that mean for her, if one of her coworkers started something nasty because her boyfriend was a sort-of crazy, fork-wielding cage fighter?

 

He caught her around the waist as she went to put on her coat. “Kitten, you sure it’s a good idea that I even come t’ this little _soiree?_ ” he asked worriedly. “If I do somethin' dumb, I don't want it t' ruin your job.” She looked up at him and straightened out the neck of his button-down shirt. Her hands were shaking and Mox held them carefully. “You alright? Y' been kinda' shivery. Comin' down with another cold?”

 

“I'm okay. There's just been so much going on at the office. We're all working hard to make this party good, you know?” she said, dismissing his concern. “I'm sure everything is going to be fine.”

 

Jon's brow furrowed but he decided to leave it alone, silently helping her get her other sleeve on.

 

…

 

In a way, he supposed he was lucky. At least in this particular instance. They hadn’t even gotten to the actual _party_ , they were barely inside the office building. She’d just taken off her heavy coat as the sound of angry, raised voices met Mox’s ears. When she flinched was when it clicked for him, and he was unable to help the shit-eating grin that spread across his face. He knew he must look like a psychopath, but he couldn’t be damned.

 

Because he’d been _waiting_ for this, oh God he had been waiting. Waiting for the day that _motherfucker_ decided to rear his ugly head again.

 

_Merry Christmas to **me**._

 

Her fingers dug into his arm and he realized he’d squared up, his whole body tense and ready. “Wait Jon, please.” She begged, “can we just see if he’ll leave? I don’t want you getting hurt.” Jon didn’t exactly shake her off, per se, but he didn’t give any indication of agreement either. “Jon, please.”

 

“He hurt you.” His jaw had gone stiff with a guttural need to bite, the words hard to get out. “He hurt you over an' over. Y’ still wake up sometimes all fuckin’ scared, scared that he’s there an’ he’s gonna’ hurt ya’.” Moxley looked down at her, curled up into his side and clinging to his arm. “I get it, y' don't wanna' make a scene an' give him the satisfaction. I am _only_ reinin’ it in because of you. An’ if he tries anythin’, m’ sorry.” He bumped his chin against her forehead. “Want me t’ lead the way?”

 

“N-no, no. I’m supposed to be introducing you and stuff.” She straightened up, giving herself a little shake. “Thank you for coming and keeping me safe.”

 

“Anythin’ for you, Kitten.” Jon raised a hand, remembering as his fingers skimmed his throat that she’d taken his collar off at home so he could wear a tie. “Wish I had m’ gear on, though. Always looks way scarier when I’m bein’ led around by th’ neck.” Her laugh was high and nervous, and Mox gripped her hand a little tighter. “I gotcha’, Kitten.”

 

“I know. I know.” She paused by the hallway to the breakroom. “Listen, Mox, I--”

 

Jon kissed her hard, rough, more of a claim than anything else. His hands dragged at the blouse she wore, smoothing over her tight shoulders with kneading motions. She rocked against him, panting when he drew back. “Sorry.” Mox apologized, feeling somewhat sheepish. “Y’ seemed like ya’ could use a little somethin’.”

 

“Shit.” She breathed as he tried to undo the wrinkles he’d put in the crisp fabric of her blouse. “What was I doing?”

 

Mox grinned, pecking her on the cheek and turning her back around. “Leadin’ th’ way.”

 

Light and sound issued from the breakroom, and she visibly started when the irritated voice of her ex-boyfriend clamored over the rest.

 

“ _Where the fuck is she?!_ ”

 

“I’m _right_ here.” Jon admired her guts. She stepped through the doorway with him in tow like she owned everyone in the damn building, her eyes narrowed slightly. She had a death grip on Mox’s hand, though, the only indicator that she was absolutely terrified. “Is there any particular reason you’re here? Besides another attempt to ruin a good thing in my life, of course.” Her words were curt, an undercurrent of anger giving her voice an unfamiliar edge. Jon would be a filthy liar if he told himself that he wasn’t turned on by _this_ Kitten, dressed like a damn professional and upbraiding an insubordinate as if it was her job.

 

One of the other men had her ex-boyfriend in a poorly-cinched bear hug, obviously not used to fighting and only keeping the guy in one spot through brute strength alone. Jon shot him a grateful look, letting go of her hand to unbutton his suit jacket. “Buddy, let me tell you somethin’.” His words were soft, a stark contrast to her harsh tone. “It’s a bad day when you make a guy like me look good, y’know? It’s a bad fuckin’ day.” Mox began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “So you an’ I are gonna’ walk t’ the lobby an’ have a little talk. Jus’ a little chat, you an’ me.”

 

Ex-boyfriend whose name he’d forgotten ages ago seemed to suddenly realize who was slowly and methodically preparing for war across from him. “It’s _you_ , it’s the fucking psycho street dog!” he swore, struggling against Kitten’s coworker’s grip. “I told you no one else would want you, and _this_ is how low you get? Talk about the bottom of the fucking barrel!” he spat at Kitten. “You’re a fucking desperate _whore_ \--”

 

Jon quickly closed the distance between them, seeing fear in the other man’s eyes as he clamped a hand over his mouth. “Lemme’ explain somethin’ to you, y’ fuckin’ _waste_ of good air.” He snarled, his fingers digging violently into the other man‘s face. “You can whip the piss outta’ me, bust me up, scream an’ holler an’ knock my lights out. But the fuckin’ _second_ your ugly ass starts in on _my Kitten_ , Mox stops playin’ nice. An’ Mox gets _real_ mean when he ain’t playin’ nice.” He jerked his chin at the man restraining her ex-boyfriend. “I’ve got him, big fella’.”

 

“But he said he was gonna'-” the young man began to protest.

 

“It’s okay, Tim.” Kitten’s soft voice soothed across Jon’s tingling senses like a caress, even if what she said was meant for someone else. His whole body was screaming for this guy’s blood, eager for the beating that had been months coming. “Jon will take care of him.”

 

She _trusted_ him. She _believed_ in him. Mox had to physically resist the urge to grin. _I’m her good mutt_. “Alright buddy, you’re with me. I’ll be back in a minute, Kitten.” He promised, sliding the wildly kicking and screaming ex-boyfriend out of the other man’s grip. “You an’ me are takin’ a trip t’ the lobby, ya’ piece of shit. All the yellin’ in the world ain’t savin’ your ass.” Mox said slowly, the words thick in his mouth as he dragged him down the hallway by the front of his shirt. He threw him against a chair in the lobby like he weighed nothing. “Sit down.”

 

The guy immediately bolted back to his feet, but years of dealing with shit like this had made Moxley well aware of how people would react. His fist drove into the other man’s gut, doubling him over and dropping him back into the chair. “I said. _Sit._ ” Mox snarled. He grabbed a handful of the other man’s hair and tilted his face back, forcing him to look up at Jon. “Buddy I am jus’ gettin’ started with you.”

 

“P-please, I’ll never bug her again. I’ll leave her alone. I p-promise.” The man gasped.

 

“ _Bug_ her? What you were tryin’ t’ do by comin’ here tonight ain’t anythin’ that I’d classify as ‘bugging’.” Moxley tilted his head, baring his teeth in a grin that had the man shaking. “She still has nightmares about ya’ ugly ass, know that? Y’ hurt her _real_ bad, buddy. But I promised myself tha’ if y’ ever turned back up, I’d send y’ off with an asswhipping that’d make our little tussle before look like a fuckin’ church picnic.” Mox leaned in close, _real_ close, within biting distance. His favorite place to be. “She doesn’t like it when I get like this, _buddy_. But I’ll do anythin’ to keep her safe. Especially take out the fuckin’ trash.”

 

The man butted his forehead against Mox’s chest in a desperate bid to free himself, then howled as Mox’s teeth crushed down on his cheek. The skin there was thin and tended to pinch in a way that produced large amounts of pain, whether Moxley broke the skin or not. He kept a firm grip on the other man’s hair, his free hand snagging both of his wrists easily and pinning them to his chest. The guy begged and wailed, jerking this way and that in an attempt to get loose. Moxley had to fight off going dark as much as his body pleaded for it. Memories flitted past his eyes of wrapping her in the bedsheet so she wouldn't hurt herself thrashing, holding her close and fighting off his own tears as she screamed and pleaded...

 

But the last thing he needed was a total loss of control. He was liable to leave the guy as a stain on the chair if he gave in to that shit.

 

His hand slipped down, fingers digging like claws into the other man’s neck. “Promised m’self punch for punch, kick for kick.” Moxley said, finally relaxing his jaw and hissing the words in the other man’s reddened face. “I want your ass scared to walk alone. I want you t’ _feel_ my teeth, see my ugly fuckin’ mug in _your_ nightmares.”

 

“Jon?” She hovered next to the reception desk; Mox could only just see her out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Yep?”

 

“Are you alright? If you don’t want to do this, I can get Tim again.” She offered. “It’s okay if it’s…if it’s too much for you.”

 

Mox felt his heart swell and he swallowed hard. She didn’t want him going too deep again, even for her. Didn’t want him to do something _bad dog_ , like he had when he snapped with Younger and she’d had to bring him back around. “Just a second, okay? M’ about done.” Mox said softly. “Jus’ about _done_.” Weirdly enough, he felt a surge of pity for the man currently whimpering in the chair beneath him. In another lifetime that might have been him. A guy who preyed on _anyone_ weaker, for any reason that struck him. A bully through and through, trying to suck all the good out of people. His lip curled in disdain and he gave the guy a hard shove, tossing him towards the door. “Get out.”

 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” The other man blubbered at Kitten, who didn’t so much as flinch or indicate that she’d heard him. “P-please, you were the b-best thing I ever had, I’m so--”

 

“That’s _enough_ outta’ you, prick. Hit the bricks, before I help y’ make that choice.” Moxley growled. “Y’ ain’t welcome where she is anymore, hear me? An' if I catch you again, you’re _fucked_.”

 

The other man fled without another word, stumbling over his own feet in his hurry to get out the front door. Mox turned to her once he was sure the guy wasn’t coming back. “Y’ okay, Kitten?” he asked, his voice a little raw.

 

She nodded hastily, her eyes wide. “I can’t believe he just...left.” She finally replied. “Wow.”

 

“I ain’t gonna’ brag, but I’m pretty sure I put the fear of fuckin’ God in his ass.” Jon grinned down at her, feeling a little giddy himself. “Now, I think y’ have a party t’ enjoy. An’ I need t’ be introduced t’ ya’ coworkers an’ shit.”

 

She threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his in a way that had him biting back a moan. He was half-hard from the beatdown and her all but melting into him was _not_ helping the situation. “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered, kissing his throat and murmuring the words over the skin where his collar _should_ be.

 

“For you, Kitten.” Jon answered just as softly, “Your good mutt loves ya’ a _hell_ of a lot. Want y’ safe.”

 

“I know. Thank you.” She twined her fingers through his, pulling him back towards the hallway. “C’mon, there’s some people I’d like you to meet.”

 

…

 

Jon learned that the receptionist with the piss-freezing glare was named Mara, and that she wasn’t actually all that formidable when she was tipsy from the egg nog. Tim, clearly the epitome of ‘gentle giant’, had apparently been in charge of baking the cookies for the party. According to Kitten he’d outdone himself this year and Jon had to agree, even if he wasn’t a huge fan of sweet stuff.

 

Rachel who had the cubicle across from Kitten made the egg nog, and Hector, the mail room guy, was in charge of all things balloon-related. The rest of the food and decorations had been a team effort, Kitten explained when Jon asked. Mox was duly impressed.

 

“S’ not so bad, huh?” he murmured, gesturing at the groups of people around the room. “I mean, _I_ could never do this kinda’ stuff, but I’m glad you can, an’ that ya’ work with such nice folks.”

 

“Oh absolutely. They’ll work me to the bone, but I love this place.” Kitten said sincerely, taking Jon’s hand and rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. Mox leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “We should probably head home after the gift swap. It’s getting kind of late and I still have to wrap your presents.” She added.

 

Mox pressed his mouth to her ear, making her whole body shudder. “I got a present I’d like t’... _unwrap_ a little early, Kitten. Because you in that cute number is a merry goddamn Christmas to _me_.” He growled, nipping the shell of her ear afterwards.

 

Kitten cleared her throat and flushed, staring down at their intertwined hands in her lap and smiling. She burst into giggles when Tim (who had been suspiciously absent for about fifteen minutes) resurfaced dressed as Santa Claus. The large blond went bright red as the whole room cheered for him, mumbling “ _ho ho ho_ ” almost too quiet to hear and hastily handing out the various small gifts they'd all gotten for each other.

 

Mara insisted on giving Jon a hug before they left and he was relatively certain a feel was copped, at least if Kitten's face and how his ass tingled was anything to go by. “That 'sweet old lady' jus' got two butterscotch candies into my back pocket an' I'm pretty sure she left a handprint on my asscheek.” Jon muttered out of the side of his mouth as he helped Kitten put her jacket back on.

 

Her laughter was still music to his ears after all this time.

 

…

 

She turned on the tree as soon as they got home. It was only about four feet tall, but it lit the living room with a soft glow that Mox found strangely comforting. She apparently really _did_ actually have other things to wrap, despite the couple of presents already under the tree.

 

Mox laid on his back on the floor beside the tree, making exaggerated groaning noises when she told him he needed to stay in the living room so he wouldn’t spoil the surprise. “ _Kitten_.” He whined, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and loosening the tie a little. “At least throw me my damn collar, I feel fuckin’ naked without it.”

 

She leaned over the back of the couch, dangling the leather strap above his head like he was a cat. She had tied a length of red ribbon to it. Jon gave her a long-suffering look. “Woman.” He smiled in spite of himself when she pouted, sitting up to kiss her knuckles and then take the collar in his teeth. “’Scuse me. I’m indecent at th’ momen’.” Mox mumbled around the leather.

 

“Leave the shirt on, please?” she requested quietly, making him pause. “I just like you in it. You look very professional.”

 

“Oh?” Mox got to his feet, finishing buckling the collar loosely around his throat. “I figured I looked kinda’ like a homeless guy that fuckin’ wandered into a Men’s Warehouse.”

 

She shook her head. “Nope! You can pull it off. Very…Han Solo, roguish.”

 

“Oh, so now I’m scruffy-lookin’? Shoulda’ known.” Mox huffed, framing her jaw with his fingers. “Well, if I’m Han fuckin’ Solo, I guess ya’ Leia. Where’s ya’ fuckin’ braids?”

 

“Easy there, is that any way to talk to a princess?” she asked softly, her eyes on his mouth. “I think you should apologize.”

 

“Oh yeah? Why?” Jon challenged, grinning down at her. “Y’ jus’ want me t’ kiss you anyhow, _Princess_.”

 

“Scruffy-looking bastard.” She grumbled, making him snort.

 

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ scruffy-lookin’ bastard.” Jon replied smugly, brushing his mouth teasingly over her own. “Hurry up an’ finish ya’ wrappin’.”

 

“Pretty sure _I’m_ the one giving orders tonight, mutt.” She rumpled his hair and then ran back to the kitchen. “I’m almost done, anyways!”

 

Jon sat back down on the floor and amused himself by looping the soft red ribbon tied to his collar around his hand, winding the long length of satin back and forth through his fingers. The smooth cloth caught on his calluses, making little tiny burrs in its surface. Mox sat back down on the floor, red-wrapped fingers nervously tapping at his collarbone.

 

_God, I hope she likes her presents_.

 

Mox fumbled with the ribbon, feeling dumb as he realized it was hopelessly tangled up at this point. He’d successfully tied his hand to his neck with about one foot of leeway. “Uh, Kitten? Y’ got a pair a’ scissors in there? M’ stuck.” He called, waving awkwardly as she made an appearance with a couple more festive boxes in her arms. “Little help, Kitten?”

 

She outright _smirked_ and Jon felt his heart skip a beat. _Oh_. “Nah, no scissors. I do have some more ribbon, though. It looks like you could use a matching set of wraps.” She teased as she carefully set the presents beneath the tree and then circled around him, like she was sizing him up.

 

Jon whined in the back of his throat. He hadn’t meant to, but the noise fought free. She just looked so damn sleek and proper, hardly a hair out of place. She looked built for punishing or praising him, and Mox was willing to bet that tonight would be a wonderful combination of both.

 

_Merry Christmas to me_. He grinned up at her and her face relaxed a little bit. “What’m I in for, Kitten?”

 

“Other hand, please.” She requested, taking the outstretched fingers and winding another piece of the ribbon around them before tying his wrists together. “You kind of beat me to it, Mox.” She giggled, loosening the ribbon he’d wrapped. “That okay? Not too tight? Is it alright if you have limited movement? Don’t want to give you any problems.” Her voice was so calm, so gentle. Jon nodded in the affirmative and she knotted the loose ends of the ribbons through the D ring of his collar. “Look at you. What a nice present you make.” She smiled, getting to her feet and dusting her skirt off.

 

Mox’s breath caught in his throat when the toe of her red dress shoe nudged his chest, urging him to lie down on his back. The heel of the shoe dug into his skin a little, just a _little_ , and Jon found himself biting down another noise. This wasn’t _fair_. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. “You were so good tonight, mutt. So good. You kept everyone safe, did you know that?” Her tone was light, like she wasn’t standing over him with a high-heeled shoe pinning him to the floor. “I know you duck away from thank-yous, or feel like you don’t deserve a lot of things. But tonight you gave me back something _very_ important.”

 

Mox tried to recall exactly what had happened, his brow furrowing as he attempted to figure out what the heck she was talking about. All he could really remember was the raging satisfaction he felt from biting the guy’s face. “I did?” he finally asked.

 

“Yes, Jon. You gave me back my peace of mind. I never have to worry about him ever again.” She said softly. “So this is my thank you. A lot of times you’ve mentioned that I treat you what you consider to be ‘too well’.” The toe of her shoe gently slid over the bulge forming in the front of his dress pants. “I’ve restrained you so that I can praise you _and_ please you, without you fighting it.”

 

Jon’s throat went dry and he swallowed hard as she straddled him. “B-but Kitten, what about _you?_ ” he managed to stammer, entirely flustered by this turn of events.

 

She shook her head, smiling at him. “Don’t you worry about me, Mox.”

 

Jon full-on whimpered then, his eyes going wide as he realized he couldn’t really even touch her with his hands wrapped and secured. The loss of control was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. “Kitten, I...” he trailed off when she looked up at him, her eyes radiating concern.

 

“We don't have to do this if you want to, Jon. You can say no and I'll stop. That simple.”

 

Mox shrugged as best as he could with her weight on his torso. “I've jus' never done this kinda' stuff. I uh. I dunno' how it's gonna' go.”

 

“Just relax, okay? Let me take over for a little while.” She murmured, “if you _do_ need to stop, just tell me and we'll stop.” 

 

“O-okay, Kitten. I trus' ya'. Do y' worst.”

 

She immediately reached back and undid his pants. Jon felt like he could hear every individual tooth on the zipper slide apart. Not having the use of his hands was so damn foreign and he nipped at the bottom of her skirt, spread tight across her thighs. She pressed the heel of her palm down on his cock and Mox bucked up, the arch of him fitting snugly in her hand.

 

Kitten rose up on her knees and shuffled backwards, ending up over his thighs as she tugged his pants down. Now she was even  _further_ out of his reach. Mox groaned, knocking his head back against the floor as she slowly ran her fingers over his length.

 

“I love the size of you.” Kitten's voice broke the daze Jon was slipping into. “I love how you're _just_ big enough. Sometimes, I feel you the next day. Thought you might want to know that.” Again with that damn conversational tone, like she was mentioning the weather or something. Mox wished his fucking _hands_ were free.

 

But it was so  _good_ , she was stroking him  _just_ right. He bit his lip, panting breaths rushing through his teeth as she pushed the hem of his dress shirt up and started leaving little, ticklish kisses along his abdomen. She sucked a hickey into the space over his hip that had him fucking  _writhing_ , thrusting helplessly up into her too-loose hand. “Oh no, o-oh  _God_ ...” 

 

“I love that you mark me, and that you want me to mark you.” She was apparently planning on making a habit out of this. “I love that you're mine and I'm yours.”

 

Mox ducked his face into his elbow as best as he could, sure that his blush was fucking  _neon_ . He could handle her talking about how much she liked his dick, but her speaking plainly about the fact that they loved each other was...it was a lot to handle. Especially when coupled with her fucking  _teasing_ his cock. 

 

Her hand caught his chin, tugging his face back up and making him to look at her. “I was serious. Don't hide from me, Jon.” Her eyes searched his own. “I want you to hear me. Is this okay?”

 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously. Mox was pretty sure he probably looked the furthest thing from  _roguish_ at this moment, pants half-on and shirt rucked up as high as she could push it. But she seemed to be eating it up, if the way she was rocking against his thigh was any indicator. And he had to admit, being forced to lay there and take shit made it a lot easier to deal with. “Y-yeah. Jus' kinda'...I dunno', s' confusin'.” he said hoarsely. “Wanna' be good for you.”

 

“You are, you are. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Jon.” she said sincerely. “You're _so_ good to me.”

 

Moxley moaned, her words making his body tense. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that he deserved every ounce of praise, every touch that she gifted him. Even if he had to pretend, just  _once_ he'd like to believe that he was worth it. “Th-thank you, Kitten.” His voice was wrecked, cracking when he tried to speak. “Y' so fuckin' good t' me, Kitten. I...I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too, Jon.” she soothed, pulling her skirt up a little higher. Then, in one quick motion, she ripped her nylons at the seam. Mox felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as he realized she wasn't wearing any panties.

 

“You been walkin' aroun' all night without--?”

 

“Mm, wouldn't you like to know.” She smirked, taking his cock in her hand and running the head of it up and down her slit. “If I was, you could have bent me over _anything_ , Mox, even one of those chairs in the reception area. Bent me over and had your way with me, had this thick cock in your little Kitten. But you didn't, did you? At least it was for a good reason, you were too busy keeping me safe. So I'll still let you have your reward, even if you didn't take charge.” She crooned, “Do you want your cock inside me, Jon? Do you want to fuck the pussy you seem to love so much?”

 

“L-love _all_ of ya', not jus' that.” Mox replied dazedly, reaching for her and coming up dramatically short. “Kitten, I...y' gotta' un'nerstan', m' not great at pickin' up cues unless y' tryin' t' hit me. I'll do better nex' time, yeah?” he pleaded, rolling his hips up in a not-so-subtle attempt to press his cock into her.

 

She tapped her mouth like she was thinking hard, still rubbing his dick absently back and forth over her cunt. “Okay.” she finally answered simply, holding his cock steady and finally,  _finally_ letting him penetrate her hot, slick entrance. 

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” The word burst out of Jon without his intent as she arched her back and planted a hand on his torso, riding his cock with fucking _purpose_. “Oh damn, _o-oh_ damn Kitten. Guess I need to find more jackasses to beat up while y' watchin', huh?” he groaned, clenching his fists uselessly beside his head when she whimpered at his words. “I had a feelin' I'd need t' fuck ya' tonight, knew you'd be all soaked an' fuckin' achin' for somethin' t' fill that sweet little pussy of yours, could feel it when y' hugged me all tight. Jus' didn't expect y' to _take_ it.” Mox bucked his hips up _hard_ , throwing her off balance and making her fall forward onto his chest. He grinned down at her, cupping her face with his bound hands and kissing her for everything he was worth. 

 

She whined into his mouth and pushed herself back up, starting to unbutton her blouse. “You're impossible.” she scolded, the purposeful grind of her hips and what greeted his eyes as she let her shirt fall open wiping the smirk off his face. She was so close and yet so far away, her breasts tantalizingly caged in a prison of white straps that he'd never seen before.

 

“Oh, when th' fuck didja' get _that?_ ” Mox liked it. He liked it a _lot_. And the idea that she'd been next to him all night wearing no panties and _this_ fucking gear, her tits probably straining and rubbing against it in _all_ the right ways...he swallowed hard. “Damn Kitten, I can't wait t' play with y' tits in _that_. Does it feel good? Because it looks good as _fuck_.” he grated out, loving the sound she made in reply to his query.

 

She traced her fingers around the straps, looking for all the world like she was tied up with creamy white ribbons of her own. “Merry Christmas, Jon.” she murmured as she teased over one of her peaks, arching her back.

 

“Merry Christmas in-fuckin'-deed.” Jon laughed breathlessly, his teeth snapping down into the ribbon around his wrists as she rode him _hard_. She was so pretty like this, leaning back and fucking herself on his cock. Her motions were almost frantic, sweat shining on her upper body as she did all the work, bringing their hips together again and again. “ _Take_ me, fuckin' fuck that dick.” Jon barely realized the words were coming out of his mouth. “Y' get that dick off with that little fuckin' pussy, sweet little pussy, s' _my_ little pussy an' y' fuckin' it for _me_ , Kitten, milk that fuckin' cock for everythin' I got.” he demanded, “Jon wants y' to come, Jon wants you t' come, Kitten--” He was so close he could _taste_ it, every move of her body absolute torture and delight. He bit down on the ribbon again, teeth tearing at the cloth. He would never rip it; she wanted him bound and he'd stay that way, but _God_ was it satisfying to bite at something while she rode his dick.

 

“Oh God, _Jon-!_ ” she cried out and Mox thrust his hips up, lifting her knees off the floor when she finally came all over his cock. Mox gave a long, low moan of completion as he spilled into her cunt, shuddering bodily while her pussy tensed and relaxed around his cock. She keened, throwing her head back and rocking her hips until it was too much for both of them to take. Kitten collapsed against his chest, her own chest heaving with the effort of having done most of the moving.

 

“Not...so easy, is it?” Jon panted, making her wheeze out a giggle. “Shit, _wow_. That was fuckin' _wild_ , Kitten.” 

 

“In a good way, yeah?” she asked softly, her lingering worry heartwarming.

 

Jon nudged his nose against hers. “Yeah, in a good way.”

 

“I just...I know it's hard for you to take the praise. Did this make it easier?” she continued, dragging her finger shyly over his still-wrapped hands.

 

Mox nodded slowly, thinking back on how hard her words hit when he was helpless to deny or silence them, her praise burrowing into his chest like she was physically doing at the moment. “...s' good. I think y' picked a winner, Kitten.” he said finally, wiggling his finger up beneath one of the straps on the side of her breast and snapping it. “ _Definitely_ picked a winner with this little hunk a' gear. Frames y' tits so fuckin' nice.” he added, eager to get her off the topic of having to tie him up so she could give him what she thought he deserved. 

 

She reached up and untied the knot on his D ring, freeing his hands and then relaxing back against his chest as he carefully untangled himself. Mox cupped her breasts once he was mostly free of the red ribbon, thrilled at the way she mewled sweetly to him.

 

“ _Merry Christmas, Mox_...”

 

_Good Kitten_ .

 


	10. All Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

The worry started setting in about a week before Valentine's Day. She _never_ wore pants to bed. Shit, she hardly ever wore _anything_ to bed and now all of a sudden she was wearing more clothes than a nervous bride. To say he was confused would be an understatement.

 

“Kitten? Y’ gettin’ sick again or somethin’?” He asked finally after the third night of this new… _interest_ in long sleeves and sleeping pants and the whole ‘not being naked beside him’ thing. Which wasn’t that big of an issue, really it wasn’t. They were both adults and if she wanted to wear clothes to bed that was definitely her right. It was just…it was a deviation from the norm and that was always a little scary for him.

 

She didn’t necessarily look _guilty_ , but she sure as shit was cagey about the subject. “I’ve been kind of chilly.”

 

That was it. That was all he got. And hell, he _wanted_ to press the matter, but at the same time he didn’t want to be that guy. So he just shut his mouth, accepted his good morning kiss (that he was still pretty sure he didn’t deserve) and headed in to work as usual. He was a good boyfriend and refrained from asking the questions that might make her upset.

 

Simple Mox, good Mox.

 

...

 

Callihan of _all_ people was the one to suggest he ‘tidy up’ for Valentine's Day, wiggling his eyebrows at Moxley in a way that made Jon want to wallop him. “Chicks ain’t into body hair anymore, man. Ya’ chest is _literally_ revolting. I would know.” Callihan gestured at his own hairless torso. “Keep a little bit of the trail, sure. Give ‘er somethin’ to follow. But get rid of that fuckin’ pelt. _Trust_ me. She’ll be all over ya’.”

 

“The last time I trusted ya’ fuckin’ scrawny ass I got beaned in the back of my fuckin’ skull with a steel chair.” Mox snorted with laughter, unable to keep it in when Sami looked let down. “Fuckin’ douche, tryin’ to kill me and shit.”

 

“I didn’t _know_ the chick had a boyfriend, man. Will ya’ let it go?” Sami groaned. “I said I was sorry an’ everythin’.”

 

Mox rubbed a hand thoughtfully over the stubble that plagued his face daily. “I don’t think she cares, Callihan. I mean, I’ll take it under…advisory or whatever th’ fuck, but I’m pretty sure she don’t care?” Mox's voice rose at the end of its own accord, turning his previously firm statement into a question. A doubt, starting to worm its way in. “Why would she care?”

 

“Hey I’m jus’ sayin’, man. It never hurts to at least _look_ like ya’ makin’ an effort.” Sami pointed out.

 

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Shit.” He said finally. “I _always_ look like a damn hobo next t’ her, man. D’ya think that would help?”

 

Callihan shrugged. “Special occasion, ain’t it?”

 

…

 

This was a goddamn _terrible_ idea. Shit, he didn't even know if she _wanted_ this or not. He didn't really want to _ask_ , either. How much of a fucking jackass would he look like if he just walked up to her, opened his mouth and said something like, “ _hey babe, sugarplum, apple of my eye, you ever thought about me not looking like a stray dog for once?_ ” The wild idea of him pulling off being a dashing son of a bitch haunted him, _especially_ while looking like that guy from the cover of that book he _definitely_ wasn't supposed to know she had stashed in her nightstand.

 

She was _still_ wearing the damn pants to bed. Shit, she wasn't even letting him put his hands _in_ said pants anymore, usually rolling over or catching his hands and kissing his knuckles in that way that made him melt.

 

Finally, early in the morning on the fourteenth, after Callihan daring him for half the damn night in between fights and at least seven shots of Jack Daniels lining his empty stomach, Mox sacked the fuck up and walked into the twenty-four hour Walgreens down the street from the CZ. He'd mopped himself off a little so he wasn't a total _bloody_ mess, just an emotional mess. He didn't know when this had turned into such a big fucking deal (but he was relatively certain it was Callihan's fault), _or_ when he had decided that this was obviously a great idea and it was definitely what Kitten wanted and he _really_ needed to just go through with this before he lost what little nerve he had.

 

So he strode in, made his way to the shaving aisle, glanced over numerous wax kits with terrifying-looking pictures, grabbed a tube of some cream that promised ' _pain-free results!_ ' and stormed the cashier like he was on the beaches of fucking Normandy. _I am the man who is going to make my girlfriend happy on Valentine's Day and nothing on this planet is stopping me_.

 

In hindsight, maybe applying the shit once he had sobered up would have gone better. Or maybe applying it _after_ his chest had healed from the fights. Or maybe just _not_ slathering the shit on while finishing the bottle with Sami and then falling asleep next to the sink in the CZ bathroom. He only conked out for about forty-five minutes or so, but according to the tube that was forty minutes too long. The burning sensation was what woke him and Mox flew into a drunken panic, flailing and damn near knocking himself out on the underside of the sink before he managed to stumble to his feet.

 

He remembered thinking _oh God no_ , just staring at his reddened, irritated chest coated with now-flaking cream in the mirror for a few wavering seconds before tearing at his jeans and making a mad dash for the showers. He'd wash it off. It'd be fine. This was definitely _not_ going to ruin everything and he was still a good boyfriend.

 

Sami full-blown _shrieked_ when Jon threw open the door to the showers, “ _Christ_ Mox, th' fuck did ya' _do?!_ ” He looked horrified, which only added to Jon's panic because Sami never busted out _that_ face around him.

 

“It'll come off Sami, s'gonna' be okay Sami.” Jon mumbled, almost losing his footing on the slick floor. Callihan caught his arm and slammed his still-clothed ass down on the tile, ignoring Mox's protests as he turned the shower on full blast, _freezing_ cold.

 

“Y' fell asleep with this shit on? I mean yeah, I done pretty much th' same thing first time I tried it. At least it's up here, right? Mine was on my fuckin' balls.” Sami's rueful grin made Mox start laughing even while he shivered under the frigid spray of the shower.

 

“F-F-Fuck C-Callihan, m' a f-f-fuckin' fa-failure.” He managed to say through his chattering teeth, essentially climbing his friend to stand again.

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Sami said bluntly, his hair now lank and dribbling cold hair gel down his face. Mox suddenly wanted to cry for some reason. He couldn't do anything right for fuck's sake and it _hurt_ , way worse than whatever the fuck was going on with his chest. “Don't get fuckin' bitchy on me now, Mox. S' just some hair. You've had way worse'n this shit, man.” Sami continued, sounding almost like he was scolding him as he rung out his shirt.

 

“M' sorry man, I jus' wanted t' make her happy.” Jon scrubbed furiously at the skin on his chest, trying to avoid eye contact. Most of the paste had already dissolved under the water, taking his chest hair with it, but the redness seemed to be here to stay. Patches were bleeding here and there, and his poor nipples, _Christ_. Mox felt raw, like someone had exfoliated his chest with a fucking belt sander. “What th' fuck'm I gonna' _do_ , Sami? I...we have a little thing planned tom--shit, _tonight_.” He realized in horror.

 

“Fuck _that_ , what about tonight with Gage? Are ya'...I mean, shit man, y' look like y' got skinned.” Callihan, ever the master of tact. Mox teared up and he quickly ducked his head, staring at the floor as Sami shut off the shower.

 

“I j-jus' wanted t' look good f' her, m-man.” He hiccuped. “She looks like a fuckin' p-princess an' m' all d-d-dirty an' disgustin' an' ugly as shit, fuckin' ruinin' her jus' like Drake s-said--”

 

Sami whacked him upside the back of his head, making Mox yelp in pain. “Jonathan _fuckin'_ Moxley, listenin' t' somethin' that comes outta' _Younger's_ mouth? Who th' fuck are _you_ , and what the shit did you do with my partner?”

 

“I dunno', man!” Jon cried, “M' hurt an' still drunk an' I'm fuckin' p-panickin', fuckin' bad dog all over th' fuckin' place, what the hell am I gonna' _do_ Callihan?!”

 

“Ya' gonna' fight with a shirt on! No shit, genius! Ya' gonna' fuck ya' woman with a shirt on! No shit, _kinky!_ She's gonna' love ya', you ain't gotta' tell her shit, an' you'll be _fine!_ ” Callihan was fucking _roaring_ at this point, obviously still pretty hammered himself. “Ya' _dick_ is fine, ain't it?! Chest jus' looks like ground fuckin' burger, y' waited too long an' shit! Now go to sleep, sleep off Jack and then we'll be ready t' fight. Ya' totally got this man, no worries!” The encouraging slap on the back he gave Jon almost knocked him over.

 

…

 

Fighting was fucking agony. Mox should have known from the _second_ he stepped into the ring that Gage would take him to task.

 

“ _What's with the getup, street dog?_ ” Nick had circled him, taking in the white t-shirt he wore. Jon's prayers that he wouldn't notice the tiny spots of fresh blood seeping through the front of it apparently went unanswered as Gage's opening move was winding up for one _hell_ of a chop. And yeah, he'd fought hurt before. Fought _really_ hurt before, much more hurt than this bullshit chemical abrasion across his chest. Like when Gage had whacked his arm open with a dinner plate, or when Damage had Powerbombed him on the cement beside the ring.

 

But the shirt just made everything _worse_. It rubbed and clung to his raw skin; Jon felt trapped and he wanted to fucking scream. There was a damn _reason_ he didn't wear shirts in the ring, too easy to get grabbed or hung up on the wire or whatever the fuck else guys would do to one another. If there was one thing Mox was sure of, it was that he didn’t like it when his opponents got _creative_.

 

As he rammed his knee into Nick’s midsection Moxley found himself wondering whether anyone in the crowd was here for Valentine's Day. Like this was someone’s idea of a hot date. “ _Hey babe, wanna’ watch a human dog fight? Bet_ _ **that’ll**_ _get your motor running._ ” Jon shuddered, cringing in pain when Gage landed another slashing chop across his chest. But he forced himself back up, forced himself past the next one to wrap his fists in Nick’s worn basketball jersey and hoist him high, almost tipping them both out of the ring. Gage strangled the ropes, kicking wildly and knocking Mox flat on his back.

 

Nick lunged on top of him and Mox could barely hazard a guess at how fucked he might have been if he hadn’t gotten his feet up in time. As such he ended up catapulting the other man over his head, and Nick slammed into the plywood on his back. Mox got up, wiping the blood from his split lip off with the hem of his shirt. The collar around his neck jingled quietly, and Jon felt some of the tension ease out of him. _She’s waiting for me_.

 

“Gage, can we speed this up?” He rasped, slumping back into his corner. “I got a cute chick dyin’ t' see me at home, man.”

 

…

 

He was lucky. He knew he was lucky. Lucky to be alive, lucky to have a friend like Sami, lucky to have his Kitten. Jon showered, shaved and changed after the fight, stripping off the now-pinkish white shirt and putting on a fresh one beneath his button-up. Hopefully it would keep the blood from soaking through and staining his (somewhat wrinkled but _very_ clean) dress shirt. Normally Mox was master and commander of all things Band-Aid, but there was just too much surface area for him to fix this problem efficiently. Gauze was out of the question, too bulky and obvious. She would ask, or worse she’d be fucking worried about what had happened and he’d kill any mood that might have already existed.

 

Jon let Sami help him fix his hair a little, Callihan clearly holding back his laughter at how slowly and carefully Mox was moving. “Ya’ like a grandma or some shit man, loosen up.”

 

“Can’t help it, Callihan. M’ sore. Nervous.” Jon admitted. “I mean, she’s been actin' funny. Wearin’ more clothes and stuff. I just don’t wanna’ wreck what good thing I have here by showin’ up looking like I-”

 

“Th’ fuck do you mean, ‘ _wearing more clothes_ ’?” Sami asked, tipping his head to the side. “Is this like that shit from before where ya’ were both bein’ fuckin’ idiots when you coulda’ been idiots fuckin’?”

 

“No no, she still lets me hold her and shit. She’s…I mean she’s a hot sleeper, y’know? It’s just weird, all of a sudden she’s wearin’ pants t’ bed an’ long sleeves.”

 

Sami ‘hmm’ed softly, looking like he was thinking hard. “Shit man, I dunno’. I’m assumin’ you ain’t, y’know, _asked_ her about why she’s doin’ it, right?” He snorted when Jon nodded. “’Course not. Ya’ _prefer_ drivin’ y’self fuckin’ nuts.”

 

“It’s _harder_ than that, Callihan.” Mox said, annoyed. “I don’t wanna’ look stupid. I already look like a fuckin’ deadbeat. If she catches on that I don’t know what I’m fuckin’ doin’ when it comes t’ her, I’m fucked. I never had t’ do any of this fuckin’ Valentine's Day crap before man.”

 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you ain’t _never_ whipped out a little TLC on a chick before, Mox.”

 

“Bein’ soft…isn’t really somethin’ that I am, Sami.” Jon mumbled. “I pretend for her, but I’m always lost n’ shit. I thought it’d get easier, fake it ‘til I make it. Everyone else before her, it’s usually been a contest t’ see how quick they can get what they want outta’ me. My mouth or my dick or my fists, whatever the fuck. An’ I went along with it because shit, I was poor an’ lonely so fuck it.”

 

Callihan had gone strangely quiet. His fingers fidgeted in Mox's hair. When he spoke again, his voice was a little kinder than Mox was used to. “I didn’t know, man. I always figured y' had a kinda’ normal love life, aside from the weird collar bullshit. I’m…I’m sorry ‘bout that, Mox.” After a second he punched Jon in the shoulder, that familiar grin back on his face. “Sorry I been sweet-talkin’ all them chicks into _my_ pants, that is!”

 

Jon smiled gratefully at his friend. There was only so much sugary-feel-good bullshit he could take from Sami at one time. “Yeah yeah, someday you’ll find a nice girl an’ she’ll take ya’ V card an’ leave y’ heart in the dust. Don’t cry t’ _me_ Callihan.”

 

“Take my fuckin’--how _dare_ y’ fuckin’-” Callihan sputtered with rage. “Insinuatin’ that I ain’t--the _balls_ on you, Moxley!” He finally managed to say, tossing Jon his hoodie. He then grabbed him in a headlock and gave him a vicious noogie, thoroughly ruining any work he had put in to the other man’s hair. “Y’ lucky we’re friends, you fuckin’ cocksucker.”

 

...

 

The bus ride over to the stop near her apartment gave Jon ample time to worry and half-crush the bouquet of orange roses he’d picked up. They were out of red ones, go figure, and the orange ones were the least ragged-looking in the group. So orange it was. He wished for a second that he knew what orange roses meant in that flower language bull, before deciding that it was probably better that he didn’t know. _I hope she likes them, shit_.

 

Keeping the roses safe until he got to the apartment was priority number one. He ended up cramming them under his hoodie so they would stay a decent temperature while he made the slow, slippery walk from the bus stop to the apartment building. It had been raining most of the day and now everything was covered in a sheen of ice. Mox breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got in out of the elements, carefully knocking the ice and slush off his boots then heading down the hall.

 

Upon opening the apartment door, he was confused for a second at the lack of lights on. Was he too late? Too early? Shit, did he get the wrong _day?_ His panic was short-lived however, once he caught sight of the candles flickering in the living room. _Oh_. Why the fuck didn’t _he_ think of that?! Nothing was more romantic than fucking _candles_. Christ, he was awful at this.

 

Jon struggled out of his hoodie and boots, clutched the flowers a little tighter. He had to swallow a few times before he could speak. “Kitten? Y’ home?” He rasped.

 

“In here, Jon.”

 

Of course she was in the bedroom. Stupid, _stupid!_ Jon half-wished he was still drunk, at least to give his body a fucking _reason_ to be so slow and clumsy. He didn’t want to open the bedroom door. He didn’t want to be the one to ruin the little daydream life he had, the one where everything was okay and he _wasn’t_ fucked up and helpless when it came to this romance bullcrap. _So much for looking like the guy on the cover of that book that I’m not supposed to know about_ , he thought wryly.

 

He had to fight the urge to knock before he pushed the door, hearing the latch click softly as it gave way. He felt almost like he was a stranger, like this was the first time he'd ever come home. Maybe even like the first time he'd seen her laid out on the bed, as if she was a beautiful surprise just for his greedy body to devour, for his stupid, _weak_ fucking heart to latch onto.

 

There were a few more candles placed here and there in the room, but it was the sight of her that caught him. She was on her back, arched in a way that his brain quietly informed him was probably pretty uncomfortable but did absolute _wonders_ for his dick, wearing a little see-through number that Jon had _never_ seen before. His mouth went bone fucking dry. “Ki...”

 

“I've been waiting for you, Jon.” She murmured, and God _damn_ , if she didn't sound every inch the sultry fucking vixen. “Missed you. Happy Valentine's Day.”

 

“H-Happy...I g-got. These.” Jon forced the words out, extending the bouquet. “F-For you.” She rolled over onto her hands and knees ( _that was a wince, that was_ _ **definitely**_ _a wince, what the hell?_ ), accepting his flowers with a happy noise that shot through his body. “Kitten, y' look fuckin'...wow. Christ.” Jon said softly, hoping that the fucking _reverence_ he felt was properly vocalized. “You're so fuckin' pretty, I...” He wasn't sure what happened inside him. It was like something broke, shattered into a million pieces. The next thing he knew he had lurched toward her, hands shaking as he pressed her back to the bed and drew them over bare skin that seemed so hot, fever hot and _smooth_ , smooth like silk.

 

Kitten squirmed and whimpered under his touch. Normally that would have lit Jon up like a firework, but something about her reaction seemed...wrong. Too sharp, like she was in pain. “Kitten, y' alright?” He asked cautiously. _Did something happen to her? Is there a bad reason she's been wearing all those clothes?_ His stomach twisted in fear. _Did I hurt her somehow? Does she not feel safe around me anymore?_ “Sound a little iffy.” _Don't you dare fucking start bawling, Moxley._

 

“I-I just missed you.” The hesitation, the _fucking_ hesitation in her voice hit him like a punch to the gut. Jon _really_ wanted to cry.

 

He sat back on his haunches, running a hand through his hair and sucking in a breath. “Kitten, if y' don't wanna' do this anymore, all you have to do is say it. I...you ain't been lettin' me do much lately, an' that's fine, but draggin' this shit out hurts me. I love you, Kitten, but if y' don't wanna' do somethin', if you don't want me around anymore, ya' gotta' let me know.”

 

Kitten's fists clenched at her sides. She grabbed a pillow and covered her face with it, screaming into the thing with a vengeance. Mox watched, wide-eyed in confusion. She finally seemed to be finished, chucking the pillow at the wall. Her face was wet with tears, but she didn't look sad, she looked fucking _livid_. Jon swallowed hard, unsure of what he had gotten himself into. “Kitten...?”

 

“J-Jon, I got...I got f-fucking _waxed_. And it _hurt_. My skin is apparently _really_ sensitive. I'm all...I'm all red and everything from the waist down feels like it's on _fire_ but I just wanted this t-to be good so I figured I could suck it up because it's our first Valentine's D-Day.” She made an infuriated sound. “I hate this! Why can't _one_ _thing_ go right?!” Jon was helpless to stop his raspy laugh, quickly holding up a hand to deflect the pillow aimed at his face. “This isn't _funny_ , Jon! I spent most of today with a fucking ice pack between my thighs just trying to bring down the swelling!” She snapped.

 

“Kitten, m' so sorry. I ain't laughin' at you. But y' gonna' laugh at me when you see what I did to myself like a fuckin' doofus.” Jon struggled to unbutton his dress shirt, nervous giggles still escaping his mouth. “Oh my God, you ain't even gonna' fuckin' believe this, Kitten.”

 

“What's those spots on your...Mox are you bleeding? Did you fight today?”

 

“Jus' wait.” Jon hauled his undershirt over his head, tossing it to land on the abandoned pillow.

 

Kitten's anger appeared to evaporate, her hand reaching out shakily to touch the raw skin of his chest. “Jesus Christ, Jon, what _happened?_ Who did this to you?”

 

“Y' gonna' fuckin' cry laughin', Kitten. I...I did this. Callihan told me that girls don't like...they don't like hairy guys. S-So I got some stuff that y' rub on an' it eats th' hair. I figured I'd surprise ya'. I fell asleep with it on though.” Jon was startled when Kitten seemed more upset than amused, the tears streaming down her face. “I was so worried about tryin' t' hide this shit from you, an' it turns out y' pretty much in the same fuckin' boat. God I'm a fuckin' idiot, Kitten. M' so sorry. I ruined Valentine's Day.”

 

“I think we both did, Jon. I mean, I spent the whole week not shaving so this _wouldn't_ happen, and it still did!” Kitten huffed. “I didn't want to gross you out, that's why I started wearing clothes to bed. I felt like a fucking _hairball_ , it was revolting but I wanted it to be a surprise and everything I read said that I should have at least a week's worth of growth and...and now I look like one of those hairless cats, all pink and pissed-off.”

 

“Oh my God, Kitten, I don't give a flyin' fuck whether ya' shave seven days a week or seven days a year, or if ya' got more fuzz than a fuckin' Wookie. I just missed the shit outta' touchin' you. How fuckin' dumb are we?” Jon snorted. Kitten laughed through her tears after a minute, cupping his face and kissing him. “M' so sorry, Kitten, fuckin' Christ I'm sorry. Let's get y' outta' that tight little number an' into somethin' of mine, okay? Nice n' loose.” He offered.

 

Her legs were almost scorching to the touch. Jon was thankful for the dim candlelight of the room as he carefully helped her peel off her clothes. He wasn't sure if he actually wanted to see the full extent of her damage. Couldn't trust himself to keep from bawling his eyes out. He _definitely_ didn't want her to see the full extent of his damage, especially the undignified, patchy remains of his happy trail. More like happy fucking hopscotch.

 

She finally seemed comfortable, curled up on his side of the bed in a loose, hole-filled shirt and nothing else. Jon made sure that all the candles in the living room were extinguished and then slowly trekked back to the bedroom, pleased to find that she'd dragged her laptop up onto the bed and was scrolling through it looking for something to watch. Jon didn't even mind when she picked a mushy romance flick, too preoccupied with how she essentially laid her tits on top of his arm and kept making little noises in the back of her throat whenever he would play with them.

 

He nodded off with her head in his lap, his fingers stroking through her hair gently while she mumbled something about a, “do-over...”

 

“ _I wish you'd just asked me._ ”

 

The soft words eased into Jon's consciousness, into the mundane dream he was having. Was it even a dream? He didn't feel achy. He must be dreaming. But all he was doing was being cradled in her arms, one of her legs flung over his and her chest pressed tightly to his back. Jon relaxed against her. It wasn't often that he indulged himself as far as being held went, still a little uncomfortable with letting his guard down. _He_ was the badass, _he_ was the one who protected, and _he_ was the one who did the spooning around here, thank you very much.

 

“ _Wish you could talk to me. I promise you won't scare me_.” Kisses landed on his shoulder blade. “ _My poor mutt_. _I should have told you what I was doing. Just wanted it to be a surprise._ ” Fingers toyed with his collar. “ _Why are we so bad at this?_ ”

 

She sounded sad. Jon wanted to say no, wanted to take all the blame for himself. None of this would have happened if he wasn't such a coward, if he'd only been able to _speak_ to her, like all those normal couples did. But his tongue refused to cooperate. So it _was_ a dream, then. Not much could keep him from talking if he so desired to shoot his mouth off. And if it was a dream...

 

He burrowed further into the warm cocoon of blankets, securing her arms around his waist and making her snuggle even closer. No harm in _indulging_ a little.

 

…

 

Four days went by. Four long, tender days of her wearing as few clothes as possible (mostly his shirts), curling up against him every chance she got and fussing over his chest. Jon had never thought of himself as a man with a great deal of patience, so he considered it a personal triumph that he had lasted this long without bending his sweet, beautiful Kitten over the nearest surface and railing her until she begged for mercy for being such a God. Damn. Fucking. _Tease_. The best part out of the whole thing (and honestly, this was what _really_ got him going) is that it seemed entirely unintentional. She was no more forward than normal, but her being sweet and gentle with him coupled with her pretty consistent lack of underwear or pants was _fantastic_.

 

Shit, maybe he _had_ gone soft and, in turn, maybe he wasn't as bad at this as he thought. He certainly had never refrained from fucking someone out of fear of hurting them before her, that's for sure. He recalled with a wince a few of the marks he'd left on women past, when they would demand or urge him out past any sort of reasonable boundaries, “ _be rough with me, Mox!_ ” They wanted something different from him, something that their boyfriends apparently weren't willing to give. The crazy, rabid street dog. They didn't want Jon. Not a lot of people did. Getting shoved into that dark, fighting mindset while he was fucking was always a terrifying experience because Jon was never quite sure what he might come back to.

 

He knew he was lucky, leaving a trail of nothing more than crisp-edged hickies and the occasional too-hard bite that made chicks squeal in pain or ecstasy.

 

He knew he was lucky because Kitten was still pressed to his side, fingers ghosting over the almost-healed skin of his chest. There was food in his stomach. He was warm and safe, camped out on a couch with the woman he loved. She never pushed him, never forced him past his boundaries. And yeah, he'd fucked up Valentine's Day but they'd had a pretty good Christmas, a few fun birthdays between them.

 

“Kitten, d'ya think we can try again?” He asked, hand rubbing over the smooth skin on her calf. She had been more and more receptive to touch as the days went on, slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy. Which was a damn good thing. “For Valentine's Day, I mean. Maybe next week or somethin'?”

 

She shook her head, suddenly swinging her leg over his thighs. “I was thinking maybe...” She trailed off, biting her lip.

 

It had been almost two weeks between the build up to the almighty V-Day and the subsequent healing time. Eleven days of not being able to stroke his Kitten, eleven days of keeping his hands to himself. But here she was now. Offering without words, straddling his thighs and shifting her hips back and forth. No panties, nothing between them but his jeans.

 

Jon swallowed hard. “Are you sure, Kitten?” He had to ask. God only knew how bad it could be if he didn't.

 

She nodded eagerly, taking his hand and pulling her shirt up (technically _his_ shirt) so he could touch her thighs. Jon's eyes narrowed and he grabbed a handful of the shirt, dragging her in for a hungry kiss. “Lean over the couch arm.” He demanded breathlessly, thrilled when she obeyed. Easy. There she was. Spread out, waiting for him. Jon wasted no time, all but pouncing on her and quickly breaching her cunt with two fingers.

 

She cried out, arching her back against him and circling her hips as he curled his middle and ring fingers roughly inside her, his index coming up to tease her clit. She was already wet, already fucking _soaked_ and so damn tight around his fingers and Jon wondered briefly how long she'd wanted him to do this but hadn't asked. The idea of her needy and achy made his dick all but crush itself against the zipper of his jeans, his brain ( _as usual_ ) going into fucking overdrive and imagining her whimpering and fingering herself on the couch, wishing it was him the whole time.

 

He groaned and pressed his chest to her back, pinning her to the couch arm. “Jon's got you, Kitten.” He whispered in her ear. “Y' little _tease_ , walkin' around with no panties on like you don't know what you fuckin' do to me. Makin' me hard as a fuckin' _rock_ , makin' me wanna' bend your naughty ass over an' fuck ya' until y' can't see straight. It would be so fuckin' easy, so fuckin' _easy_. Just tug this shirt up a little, slide this fat fuckin' dick into you. You'd love that shit, wouldn't you?” Jon asked, spreading her pussy lips to tease his middle finger over her entrance in a mockery of penetration.

 

“Y-Yeah-” Kitten sounded almost frantic, her hips rocking up into his touches.

 

“Y' like me when I'm desperate, don't ya' Kitten?” Jon leaned back and unzipped his jeans, lazily stroking his cock and winking when she looked back at him. “Y' like it when I just _say_ all the shit that's on my brain, instead of keepin' it in. Shit, y' might even _like_ me bein' in charge, huh?” Kitten whimpered pitifully. “Jesus Christ Kitten, you made me so _fuckin_ ' hard, damn. Could come just from this. What would y' do if I came right now, fuckin' coated y' stomach?” Jon cupped his cock and pressed it to her slit, rubbing himself slowly back and forth across her dripping opening.

 

Kitten dug her fingers into the couch, moaning needily and trying to shift her hips so he would slide his cock into her.

 

“Mmm, someone's been a _naughty_ fuckin' Kitten. I think y' can wait me out.” Jon murmured. He'd never gotten himself off quite like this before, but it definitely had merit. He really _was_ too wound up, the waiting and her willingness completely ruining his endurance. Jon felt no shame though. He was perfectly willing to go multiple rounds, if that was what it took for him to satisfy her. He pressed his forehead to the small of her back and came with a soft grunt after a few more tugs on his dick.

 

Kitten made a whining noise, seemingly in disbelief that he'd come so soon. “J-Jon...?”

 

“I toldja', y' been fuckin' _naughty_.” Jon panted, smirking. “Gettin' me hard all the time, rubbin' ya' tits on me like y' trying t' titfuck my whole fuckin' body. Can't tell me at least _some_ of it wasn't intentional, Kitten. Y' must like me all riled up an' achin' t' fuck you.” The blush that spread over her body was answer enough.

 

“I...I like it when you take charge. I've missed you.” Kitten said quietly, her honesty surprising Jon. “God, Jon, please. Please.” Her fingers slid down her stomach to touch his dick, stroking him gently. He hadn't exactly _wilted_ when he came and she apparently realized that, if her sharp intake of breath was anything to go by.

 

“Oh that's right, I'm still good t' go.” Mox grinned, softly biting her shoulder blade through the shirt. “I've been fuckin' _waitin'_ for this, Kitten. No one an' done tonight.”

 

“ _Yes_.” She sounded _thrilled_ and it made Jon laugh.

 

He spread her legs open even wider, taking a moment to appreciate the effort she'd put in. “I know y' probably ain't too keen on waxin' ever again, so if y' don't mind I'm just...” Jon paused, thrusting his fingers back into her and then mercilessly hooking them over her spot. Kitten's back arched, the woman pressing her cheek to the couch arm while she moaned and writhed underneath him. “Mm, Kitten y' sound a _little_ close t' creamin' all over my hand. Smooth little pussy tryin' so hard t' come on me.”

 

“Please, Jon, I--” She begged, her voice cracking as she came. “It's been _awful_ , could tell I was making you hard but I couldn't _do_ anything about it, wanted to fuck you so bad but I was too sore.” Kitten admitted jerkily when she could speak again, “wanted you so much, so fucking much, Jon, _please_.”

 

Her confession hit him like a sack of bricks. Even though she'd been in pain, she still wanted him. _Him!_ Jon was a little exasperated with how quickly his eyes welled up. How fucking soft could he _get_ , really? But for her...

 

Shit, for her he'd fucking melt away if she asked for it.

 

“No more waitin', Kitten.” Jon rasped, blinking the tears back. “No more hidin'. I'll be careful. I promise. Won't hurt you. _Good Behavior_.” He felt a shudder roll through her body that had nothing to do with her orgasm. He vaguely recalled coaxing her onto the worn-out mattress he'd had at the CZ warehouse with those same words and a fervent promise of no biting.

 

_Good Behavior, Best Behavior._

 

It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd been _that_ guy, the one who'd wanted to go dark because it was usually better than being around inside his fucked-up head. A lifetime since she'd been so small and scared, willing to do anything just to feel safe for a little while. She'd hauled him out of his destructive cycle and he'd slowly given her a sense of security.

 

They'd come so far together.

 

Jon shook his head and pressed another kiss to her shoulder blade, easing his fingers out of her. “Hey, turn over, okay?” He asked softly. She had a shy expression on her face when she obliged, tugging the shirt down like it would cover her completely. He caught her hands, mouthing soft kisses on her knuckles. “No more hidin' from me, Kitten. My beautiful fuckin' princess.”

 

“Only if you promise to do the same.” She replied, her voice just as soft. The protest was on the tip of his tongue, he didn't _hide_ \--

 

But he recalled the hellish week he'd spent agonizing over something as _pointless_ as whether she liked his body hair or not, and he finally nodded. A smile lit her face and she slid a finger through the D ring on his collar, pulling him into a kiss that was so tender it hurt. “My strong mutt.” She crooned to him when they finally parted. “I love you so much.”

 

_Shit_ , he might be totally fucking broken at this point. He quickly ducked his head and began fumbling with his jeans in an effort to keep her from seeing how hard those words still hit him. She cupped his chin though, tipping his face back up so he could meet her eyes. “I'm serious, Jon. I know it's difficult for you. I don't expect one night of me tying you up to be enough to work through a lifetime. But...I'm going to keep saying it until you're okay with it.” She whispered.

 

He had no idea why she was being so quiet. All it did was add another layer of intimacy to the situation. Jon could handle yelling, frantic movements, demands and orders and hits that landed. When it came to the gentle stuff though, the romantic shit like they had in the movies she liked to watch, he was at a total loss. It always sat heavy in his chest and made his throat tighten, his longing quickly slapped down by the reality of who he was.

 

“M' sorry Kitten, I don't mean to...I jus'. It's jus' a hard thing for me to handle. M' okay.” Jon mumbled, “Bad at this shit.”

 

“Do you still want to, or should we stop?” She asked cautiously, searching his face. “I totally understand if you would rather just snuggle.”

 

_Jesus Christ, Kitten, you aren't even fair_ . Jon shook his head, not trusting his voice as he laid his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her. He could hear her heart rate pick up while he slowly, slowly slid his cock into her, could hear the moan she tried to bite back. Her hands cradled his head. “Who says I can't do fuckin' both, huh?” Jon challenged shakily, biting down hard on his lower lip when she whimpered. “I'll snuggle the fuck outta' ya', Kitten.”

 

“Mm, _yes_ -” She sighed, stroking his hair. “God I love you. Love you so much.”

 

Jon couldn't answer, just gripped her as tightly as he dared. He may  _like_ to talk, but his words failed him at times like these. His body would have to do the talking for him. No candles here, no cute lingerie or bouquets of roses (though not for lack of trying on either of their parts). Just all his damn feelings, all his soft fucking  _bullshit_ feelings that he couldn't articulate so he had to resort to this, holding her close and easing their bodies together like he was never going to do this again so it had to  _last_ . 

 

Maybe she'd get an inkling. Maybe she'd hear the ' _I love you so much_ ' that was what he  _meant_ when he clumsily said she was beautiful. Maybe she might understand he had never done this with anyone else and it was fucking  _terrifying_ and he didn't know what the fuck to  _do_ .

 

“Kitten, I...” Jon's voice petered out and he cursed inwardly. _Dammit, fucking dammit_. She just started stroking his hair and it made some of the strain leave his body. “ _Fuck_.” He muttered, torn between comfort and being more aroused than before. She was so fucking warm around him, whole body wrapping him in an embrace that he never wanted to leave. “I missed you.” He finally said softly, voice muffled by her shirt. “ _Fuck_ , did I miss you.” He sloppily licked and nipped at one of her peaks through the shirt, hoping to distract her from how choked-up he sounded. “N-Not just this, obviously.” He cursed the tremble in his voice. “Everythin', everythin' about you. I'll try not t' hide anymore. Don't want ya' t' feel like I do.”

 

“God, Jon...” She was being so damn _tender_ with him, like when he came back to her walking fucking wounded and it killed him because it meant she was worried. Her fingers buried in his hair, her hips rising to meet his own so gently, her sweet voice moaning praise as he made love to her. He found himself breathing every word that got tangled up in his stupid mouth, pulling energy from all the times he'd fucked up, broke off, never said what he wanted to. All his stupid machismo was shoved aside, like what had happened the first time he'd met Kitten.

 

The only thing left was that raw  _love_ ache that hurt sometimes, burned a little too bright sometimes and left him feeling defenseless. But Jon would do it for her. He would do anything for her. “Oh God, Kitten, please open your eyes.” He begged, propping himself up over her. “I gotta' tell ya' somethin'.”  _Please, please, before I lose my nerve._

 

She half-opened her eyes, her hands moving to cling to his midsection. Her breath was coming in shaky little sobs, wanton noises making their way out as he continued to fuck her slowly. “J-Jon--” She gasped, her nails digging into his skin in that way that let him know she was close.

 

“ _God_ , I love you!” Jon fairly exploded, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “I love how y' say my fuckin' name, my _real_ name. I love the way ya' fuckin' curl up around me, the way y' take care of me. I fuckin' love ya' happy fuckin' face an' th' kisses you give me an' the ways y' make me laugh and I hate that I had to fuckin' slog through all _my_ hangups jus' so I can fuckin' _finally_ gush 'bout how fuckin' great you are!” The words poured out of him, hot and messy and maybe a little more than he'd intended to share as he felt her walls tighten around his cock. “Y' my Kitten, you're th' most precious thing I fuckin' have, most importan' thing in the fuckin' world t' me an' I love you so damn much, so fuckin' much--”

 

She grabbed his collar and jerked him down to her face, kissing him for all he was worth. Jon cupped the back of her neck and refused to let go, the two of them locked in a race for completion while he continued to mumble against her lips, all the soft shit he'd always been too scared to say.

 

_I love the way you make me feel, I love the way you touch me, I'm so sorry for making you wait for this, please forgive me, I love you so much, I'm so sorry he hurt you, thank you for letting me love you, thank you for trusting me_ ...

 

“I love you too, Jon, I love you so _much_ \--” Her reply made his heart swell and he swallowed hard, bumping his forehead into hers and looking down at where their bodies joined. 

 

“Come with me, Kitten. Come with me, please. M' fuckin' beggin', can't last much longer.” He pleaded urgently.

 

She cried out, the sound sending shivers down his spine that went straight to his dick as she came around him. Jon slowed his pace to a gentle rocking, brushing her hair back from her face while she gasped for breath. “ _O-Oh_ , Kitten...” He moaned, his own orgasm rolling over him in an all-encompassing wave that nearly made his arms give out. “Fuckin' Christ, Kitten.”

 

She quickly struck one-two at his arms, successfully dropping him on top of her with a startled ' _oof!_ '. Kitten didn't seem to mind being almost-crushed though, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight while she ran her hand through his hair and made soft noises of content. Exhaustion dragged at his body like a dead weight, but he couldn't in good conscience just _doze_ _off_ after saying all that stuff to her.

 

“Are y' alrigh', Kitten?” He asked warily, after she hadn't moved for several minutes. Her breathing had evened out, heartbeat still coming back down. She'd fallen asleep underneath him. Jon barely kept from snorting with laughter. So much for being worried about how she would take him essentially fucking his feelings into her, seemed she was handling things better than _he_ was.

 

He carefully untangled her arms from around his neck, standing and twisting back and forth to work the kinks out of his spine. His whole body ached but in that warm, pleasant way. Jon looked down at her, thoroughly tousled and sound asleep without a care in the world. “Y' have th' best ideas, Kitten.” He said quietly. “Let's head t' bed.”

 

Her head lolled against his chest when he picked her up and her fingers sleepily traipsed across the bare skin. “Miss your fuzz.” She mumbled as Jon laid her down on their bed.

 

Jon hushed her, trying not to laugh while climbing under the covers and tugging her close. “It'll grow back, Kitten.”  _I hope_ .

 

“Mm, _good_.” 

 

Jon laid there silently for a few minutes as she moved around, finally seeming to get comfortable with her face tucked into his neck. “Damn, but ya' sure do know how t' make a first impression on a guy.” He said softly.

 

_Good Kitten_ .

 


	11. Epilogue

It wasn’t as if he had forgotten. More like that time was over. He was a free man, freer than he’d ever been in his life. And as he headed to the gorilla position backstage, body jittering with nerves and excitement, he knew that she was waiting for him at ringside. Like she always had. Like she would continue to do, hopefully for the rest of their lives.

 

A wave of emotion seared Mox’s throat and he quickly rubbed at his eyes. A large fist tapped the back of his shoulder gently. “How you doing, Uce?” Roman asked, his smile tight with his own nerves. “You’ve got this man. It’s all you.”

 

“It’s kinda’ _gotta’_ be, man. Ya’ ain’t exactly gonna’ fit under the ring in all your fuckin’ gear.” Jon grinned. “Hell of a secret fuckin’ weapon you’d make though.”

 

Roman laughed, pulling him in for a headbutt and squeezing his forearm comfortingly. “You’ll do just fine.”

 

“I wish…shit, I wish Callihan coulda’ made it.” Jon admitted quietly. “He always dreamed of headin’ to somethin’ like this, the two of us whippin’ ass in a legitimate fuckin' promotion.”

 

“There’s always next year, Uce.”

 

Jon was startled by the conviction in Roman’s voice. “Y’ really think I’m gonna’ be around? Damn, you’ll make me fuckin’ cry Reigns.”

 

“I _know_ you’ll be around, man. Bet you’ll even have a belt. Nice shiny one for your waist. I’ve dealt with Lesnar before, though. Be careful and you’ll come out on top. Barring any unforeseen sneaky bastards cashing in on you, of course.” Roman said ruefully.

 

“'Careful’ ain’t really in my vocabulary, Reigns.” Jon knew that the ‘tough guy’ act wasn’t necessary around Roman, but it was a difficult habit to break.

 

Reigns rolled his eyes at him. “It is now, Uce. Just think about all the progress you lose if you’re out injured. Remember that and it’ll help.” Roman’s smile was knowing. “Think about her.”

 

“Every second I ain’t with her, Reigns.”

 

Roman squeezed his arm again, bringing him in for another headbutt. “Stay safe out there. We’re rooting for you.”

 

…

 

The crowd roared _deafeningly_ loud when his music hit.

 

Jon found himself awestruck, just turning in place on the entrance ramp for a minute to take it all in. Hundreds, _thousands_ of people. Screaming for him. Losing their fucking _minds_ , absolutely going ballistic. For _him!_ Street dog, lunatic, underfed, scrappy, mean-spirited and never-say-fucking-die Jon goddamn Moxley.

 

_Wrestlemania_ .

 

This was a once in a lifetime moment and he wished with all his goddamn heart that Callihan could be here to witness it in person, be part of it, instead of watching from home.

 

“ _You go the fuck on, Mox. Get ya’ shit together, get in there an’ beat some fuckin’ ass_.” Sami had encouraged him before he left the CZ warehouse for the final time, giving him a hard wallop on the back. “ _Don’t forget us little people when ya’ up there at the top with some fancy fuckin’ belt, got it? I’ll be cheerin’ for ya’._ _Fucker_.”

 

Moxley knew why they had chosen him to play with Brock. He could take a beating, could land on his neck and roll through it to stand again and again. Lesnar wasn’t known for being careful or even remotely respectful, a fact that Jon was made painfully aware of once Brock and Paul Heyman made their way to the ring.

 

Lesnar leaned over the barricade, practically nose to nose with Kitten while Jon stood in the ring, his fists clenched. Mox just had to hope Kitten didn't panic.

 

“I’ll kill him.” The large man sneered, gesturing up at the ring.

 

To her credit, she smiled back at him and coolly replied, “You can try.”

 

Jon had worked with a lot of the men in the locker room, earned respect through discipline. He’d done time all over the world with all kinds of promotions, fought his way up through FCW, NXT into the big roster, and here he was on the grandest stage of them all against the _one_ guy who would do everything in his power to fuck him up. _Life sure was strange._ Really, the only thing he could count on Brock doing was botching a perfectly good Shooting Star Press. Other than that all bets were off.

 

Brock didn’t want a good match, he wanted an _easy_ match. A squash. Knowing that they had this fight, Jon had thrown idea after idea at Heyman for great spots (some more ludicrous than others, granted), but Lesnar had no interest in any of them. Anything that involved him _not_ giving Mox as many suplexes as he could wasn't a big seller. And so Jon went into the fight, took two good ones and sandbagged the third. When Lesnar refused to let him go he went limp, forcing Brock to heft his full weight unassisted.

 

“What the fuck are you _doing_ , asshole?” Brock snarled in his ear.

 

“Givin’ these people what they fuckin’ came here for.” Jon snapped, digging his elbow back into Brock’s stomach. “You ain’t gonna’ sell anythin’ I hit ya’ with, so now my gloves are fuckin’ off. Ya’ fake ass-” Brock’s large, gloved hand all but covered his face and Mox bit down on the padding over his knuckles. Lesnar grunted, releasing Jon as he tried to pull free.

 

Jon ground his teeth together, momentarily biting hard enough to make his jaw ache before letting go and rolling out of reach. “Nice try, ya’ fuckin’ gorilla.” He rasped, wagging his finger at Brock, who at this point was obviously incensed. “You want an easy fuckin’ match, go get fuckin’ Cena or some shit. Right now though, big man, it’s you an’ me. Ya’ ain’t exactly been receptive t’ my fuckin’ ideas. Know what that means?” Moxley murmured, tapping the side of his head. “Means I gotta’ get fuckin’ _creative_. I beat guys with fluorescent light bulb tubes. I’ve played in enough concertina wire t’ keep a maximum security prison cozy. I’m hard an’ bitter an’ built of fuckin’ _hate_ , Lesnar. Ain’t some motherfucker who wanted to play with the fuckin’ MMA big kids.” He stood to his full height, glaring at the larger man.

 

“You really want to do this now?” Brock asked incredulously, gesturing at the arena around them.

 

“Oh sweetheart, I will do this all day an' fuckin' night if it gets a better match out of ya' fuckin' lazy ass.” Jon growled. He slid out of the ring, flipped the apron banner up out of the way and started rummaging. Mick Foley and Terry Funk (Mick _fucking_ Foley and Terry _goddamn_ Funk, Jesus Christ) had given him some presents and he aimed to use that shit. When he looked back up, Brock had yanked his left glove off and was working on his right, a savage grin firmly in place on his face. Moxley knew he should be scared. Should be intimidated. But he couldn't help the thrill that raced through his body.

 

_This_ is what he wanted, _this_ was why he'd agreed to this match. The arena _lit_ the fuck up when he hoisted Mick's bat high over his head and then mouthed over the side of it like some kind of nutcase, like he used to do to the girls they sent in to him. He swore he could hear Kitten screaming along with the crowd, ' _get him Mox!_ ' With Barbie in his hands he rolled back under the ropes.

 

And stopped dead as a chainsaw revved to life.

 

The crowd lost their fucking minds all over again.

 

_Sami!_ The mad bastard had scrambled out from beneath the ring on the opposite side and was currently standing tall on the announce table, Terry Funk's thankfully-chainless gift rumbling in his black-taped hands. He slashed wildly at the air, the grin on his face unable to be described as anything _but_ shit-eating. He’d gotten a new black coat somewhere along the way, purple studs and accents matching Mox’s florid entrance vest.

 

_The Switchblade Conspiracy rides again_.

 

Jon thought his face was going to crack from how hard he was smiling. “ _Call'han!_ ” He hollered, pointing with Barbie. “Getcha' ass in here, we got a Beast t' kill!”

 

…

 

Kitten hugged Callihan tightly when they returned up the ramp, wiping her eyes. “You did _great!_ Did you _hear_ them cheering for you guys?” She was practically bouncing in place, looking absolutely _thrilled_. Jon couldn't handle it when she looked like that and proceeded to kiss the breath out of her lungs.

 

It had blown his mind when he had paused for a second and realized the crowd was chanting _Switchblade Conspiracy_ , not _Suplex City_ , and Moxley had almost lost his shit. Almost.

 

Sami's laugh was shaky and he patted Mox on the shoulder, seeming suspiciously close to tears. “Shit yeah I did. S' fuckin' mindblowin'.”

 

Jon didn't let go of Kitten, just caught Callihan with his other arm and dragged him in to butt heads. “Y' little shit, had that crap all planned out an' fuckin' everythin'.” He rasped. “I kept thinkin' all fuckin' week, _damn Callihan woulda' liked that_ or _shit I wish Sami was here t' see_ an' then ya' just showed up, goddamn neat as y' fuckin' please. Fucker.”

 

“I couldn't fuckin' believe it m'self when I had Triple fuckin' H callin' me on my fuckin' cellphone, Mox.” Sami admitted, grinning again. “I only _jus'_ signed t' NXT, figured I'd keep it a s'prise f' ya' ass. Instead, _Wrestle-fuckin'_ - _mania_.”

 

“Hell of a surprise.” Jon said quietly as Brock and Heyman stormed through the curtain.

 

“ _Moxley!_ You've got _some_ nerve, you little _punk!_ ” Paul raged, his face crimson. “My _client_ -”

 

“Ya' client knows better now.” Mox interrupted, a nasty smile twisting his mouth. He bared his teeth. “Jus' be thankful I didn't take a fuckin' chunk wi' me, Heyman.”

 

Brock's huge hand landed on the top of Jon's head and the former MMA fighter proceeded to give him the world's most brutal noogie. “Don't try it again, shithead.” He grunted, words a little hard to get out due to how swollen his face was. Jon and Barbie had paid him back in spades for the suplexes he _had_ pulled off. “Got lucky today, I'll give you that. Scrappy fuck. We'll be in touch.”

 

Jon's tongue poked out from between his teeth as he smirked up at Lesnar. Kitten all but plastered herself to his side, fingers digging into his ribs as he and Callihan stared Lesnar down. “Lookin' forward t' it, Magilla.” Jon said finally. Brock released him, giving him a smirk of his own before turning and limping away.

 

“Whoo, I dunno' how y' fuckin' do that shit.” Sami exhaled loudly once Lesnar and Heyman had turned the corner. “I feel like I need t' piss m'self every time th' guy looks at me.” He slapped his forehead suddenly. “Shit! I almos' f'got. Drake...y' 'member Drake Younger? He's one of our fuckin' referees now. In NXT. It's so fuckin' funny, man, he said t' say h--”

 

Jon grabbed Sami around the waist and hoisted him up in the air, ignoring the shake of his overused muscles as Callihan squawked indignantly. “Callihan y' little shit, don't change th' fuckin' subject! We jus' beat Brock _fuckin'_ Lesnar, at fuckin' _Wrestlemania!_ ” Mox yelled, shaking his partner. “Holy fuckin’ _shit!_ ”

 

Callihan laughed harder than Jon remembered him laughing in _years_ , wrapping his arms around Mox’s head and crushing his face into his chest. “ _Shit yeah!_ ” He crowed.

 

Kitten’s hands settled on Jon’s hips from behind, gentle kisses landing on his shoulder blades.

 

_Not a bad first try, for Wrestle-fucking-mania_.

 

…

 

She was voracious that night, her normal worry about his bruises apparently pushed aside as she pounced on him. She tore at his tank top, the little noises in the back of her throat driving Mox crazy enough to flip her over and pin her to the hotel bed. She had dressed in Wrestlemania finest, a slinky purple number (she had informed him it was actually _lilac_ ) that matched his entrance vest and collar. _Explicit MOX Violence_ , spelled out across his back in an obnoxiously bright shade of purple. As much as he loved the dress on her, he loved sliding it off of her a thousand times more so he could spread her thighs and eat her out until she screamed.

 

Kitten was _soaked_ , grinding against his face and chanting his name under her breath already. It hit Jon hard that he was so completely, inescapably, _hopelessly_ in love and he had to fight the urge to pull back. The match had been hours ago and he was still _pinging_ with adrenaline, emotions running hot and close to the surface. “Love you.” He finally said quietly, kissing her thigh. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

 

“Jon…” She was fucking _quaking_ under his mouth, legs draped over his shoulders. He could feel her thighs shuddering in time with his motions, see the way her belly heaved as she panted for breath, whimpering and writhing and coming undone for him, for _him_.

 

“Kitten, Kitten.” Jon felt fucking _reverent_ , like this was a moment that he should savor. So he did. He did again, and again, and fucking _again_ , until his jaw was sore, until she was pulling at his collar and sobbing for him because it was _too much, too much, need you_. She refused to let him go, her hand clenched around his collar and hips rocking against his own as she dragged him up to her mouth for a hungry kiss.

 

_Mox went willingly. Who was he to deny her a taste of herself?_

 

“Fuck me please, please, _please_.” It wasn't a question this time, it was a _demand_. She was still the only one he'd ever been with that had asked so damn nice, though.

 

“ _Anythin' for you, Kitten_.”

 

Deja vu washed over Jon and it was as if everything faded away, like they were back in the CZ warehouse with her spread out beneath him for the first time. The first slow stroke of his cock burying itself in her was enough to make them both moan, Mox pressing their foreheads together and kissing her fiercely. “'Unno if y' remember.” He began hesitantly, biting his lip and then rolling his hips to set the pace for her. “I was waitin' f' them t' send the girls in, an' instead it was you that came into the ring. All fuckin' shaky, flinchin' every damn time I moved.”

 

“You were crouched in the corner with that old collar around your neck. Ch-chained up.” Of _course_ she remembered. She had to pause then, filling the gap with a breathy groan when Jon bottomed out in her. “I was just so tired of getting hit all the time.” She continued, barely a whisper.

 

“M' gonna' be grateful f' the rest of my fuckin' life that you decided t' step closer.” Jon admitted, smoothing the hair away from her forehead. “Grateful that I'm the one wakin' up next t' you, I'm the one who gets t' touch ya' like this.” His voice threatened to die right there, but he soldiered on. “I jus' love y' so fuckin' much, Kitten.”

 

“I love you too, Jon. You did so good.” She praised, her fingers running through his unruly hair. “I'm so proud of you.”

 

Jon didn't duck away, didn't brush her off. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist and fucked her harder, his pelvis crushing warmly into the apex of her thighs. Words failed him and all he could do was bury his face in her neck, quietly growling as her grip on his collar tightened and her legs rose to wrap around his hips. He mouthed over her shoulder, over her collarbone, his hand sliding between their bodies to stroke her clit.

 

“Kitten m' gonna' come, gonna' come, come f' me _please_ , please please-” He begged, doing everything that he could to keep from tumbling over the edge before she did. Kitten's teeth dug into his shoulder and Mox shivered when she cried out as she came, her noise muffled by his skin. She bit down harder and that was it for Jon, his forehead dropping to the junction of her neck and shoulder while he spilled into her with a satisfied snarl.

 

Her fingers were in his hair, her breath sighing out with his face buried in her neck. He had done it. _They_ had done it. Who knew what the future held from this moment on? Maybe a title run, maybe Sami would get shot up to the main roster. One thing he was fairly certain of was that the long, hungry nights were far behind.

 

The future was _terrifyingly_ bright for someone like him.

 

He’d honestly expected to die pretty young, but he kind of just...kept going. Every birthday that passed was a semi-pleasant surprise, every time he woke up in a puddle of his own blood with Callihan pulling him back to his feet a tally-mark on the list of ' _Not Fucking Yet_ '. He hadn't known what he was continuing for, really. Food, a place to stay. Surviving at its finest.

 

He hadn’t expected to fall in love. Hadn’t expected her to make everything better just by offering her love in return for whatever pitiful affection he could muster up. His life without her would be an absolute shit show and he knew that with a bone-deep conviction.

 

Jon had never gotten over just how fucking _lucky_ he was. How incredibly fucking easy it might have been for her to never come back, or for him to forget about her entirely after that first night of taking her apart with his mouth.

 

“ _Promise, no bitin’. Good Behavior._ ”

 

“ _Can I stay here tonight? Please?_ ”

 

“Jon?” She asked softly, sounding a little worried. Her fingers fidgeted with his collar. “Are you alright? God, I should have made sure you were okay before getting all greedy, I'm so sor--”

 

Moxley tried to reassure her by kissing her hard, but he ruined it because he was still panting for breath. She started to laugh, peppering his face all over with kisses while he grunted in annoyance. “Fuck’s sake Kitten, m’ fine. Probably won’t feel any of th’ bumps til’ t’morrow anyhow.” He mumbled, shoving a hand beneath the small of her back and arching her up into him again. “ _Mm_ , fuck. Kitten, love y’ so damn fuckin’ much.”

 

“I love you too, Jon.” She replied, cupping his jaw. “More than anything in the world.” She squirmed a little underneath him, getting comfortable and draping her arms over his shoulders. “Where to from here, oh Slayer Of Beasts?” She asked teasingly, hips shifting against his own.

 

“I dunno’, really. Never thought I’d get this far.” Jon admitted. “Kinda’ excitin’, huh?”

 

“Maybe a little _too_ exciting.” She said, her tone dry.

 

Ever his beautiful, practical Kitten. Jon snorted. “I’ll talk t’ the boss. See where I’m goin’, whether this was a one-off or what. I feel like they wouldn’t have brought in Call’han if they weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ my ass in the picture.” She nodded in agreement, stifling a yawn. Jon’s eyes softened and he kissed her gently. “Sleep, Kitten. Y’ had a busy fuckin’ day.” He smoothed the hair back from her face, off her forehead. “Only good shit from here on.”

 

“Promise?” She murmured, seeming already half-asleep.

 

“Promise.” Moxley said softly.

 

_Good Kitten_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you all for joining me on this endeavor. However much or little you liked this story, I'm so glad I got to share it with you. I'd like to thank the Thirst Party crew and Mox Hoe Club on Tumblr, every one of you (especially you Tox!), because you motivated me to write every week as far as Thirst Party Saturday goes, and continue this story in general as far as the MHC goes. An extra special thanks goes out to hardcorewwetrash over on Tumblr, naturally, forebear of the Thirst Party!
> 
> Thank you all for your time. Thank you all for your consideration of my tale. Most importantly, thank you all for enjoying. I'll see you real soon.


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